


On the Mend: Isa’s Awakening

by OstelanExcruciasm



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Headcanon, In Character, M/M, Mild Gore, Post-Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2019-11-17 14:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 109,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18100415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OstelanExcruciasm/pseuds/OstelanExcruciasm
Summary: A post-KH3 story following Isa as he readjusts to being human and apologizes to everyone for all the wrongs he's committed.  It's not easy, and everyone has their own unique struggles coming to terms with what happened, but as KH3 insists, they all live happily ever after, right?  Don't they?(Takes place before the KH3 ending scene on the clock tower and the beach.)





	1. Awake, Alive

**Author's Note:**

> This story was meant to be a one-shot, but the ideas didn't stop coming. I have no idea where it will end, but it's a wild ride to watch it go. I enjoy writing this one very much and I'm glad you folks enjoy reading it!

_ Do you know what happens to those who lose their true purpose?  Inevitably, they destroy themselves. _

Looking up at the castle’s towers, as he had so many times before, Lea was surprised to find that they appeared even taller than they were in his youth.  He stood in the courtyard in the warmth of the sunlight, breathing in the clean, familiar air of his beloved hometown as the soft breeze blew through his hair.  He could have stayed in that spot for hours, absorbing the view of the castle, drowning in the flood of his memories, but he knew he couldn’t stall forever. He’d been mentally coaxing himself to approach the castle’s tall doors for several minutes, losing his nerve and hesitating every time he tried to take another step.

Finally, with a deep breath, he turned to his companions.

“Roxas, Xion… I think you should stay outside.  I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

The two of them silently nodded with understanding expressions, each giving him an encouraging smile.  Lea graciously accepted their support, finally working up the courage to enter the castle once and for all.  He marched up to the doors where he met Aeleus and Dilan. They shared warm greetings, having not seen each other since their re-completion.  They had been expecting Lea’s arrival, and quickly welcomed him inside.

“So… is he in there?”

“He is.  I don’t think he’s awake yet.”

Lea sighed with relief before finally crossing the threshold into the castle’s entryway.  Aeleus gave him a friendly pat on the back as he passed by before closing the doors behind him.

Alone again, Lea took in the enormity of the experience as he gazed up to the high ceilings.  He was quickly bombarded by memories, but he pushed them away as he cautiously tread the long hallways to Ansem’s study.  Just as he raised his hand to knock on the door, it opened, startling him. Standing before him was none other than Master Ansem the Wise.  Behind his thick beard was a warm smile and his eyes twinkled as he gazed upon his former apprentice.

“It is good to see you, Lea.”

Speechless, Lea bowed his head respectfully, hiding the shame on his face.  “Master Ansem… thank you for having me.”

Master Ansem laid a hand on Lea’s shoulder, prompting him to lift his head and cast off his guilt.  As he gently ushered the young man into his study, he spoke softly the answer to the question Lea had been too anxious to ask.

“There is someone here who will soon awaken.  I have a feeling that yours will be the first face he will want to see.”

He gestured to the doorway beside his desk leading back into the room where his enormous computer was housed.  Lea froze, staring hesitantly into the hall, trying to convince himself to enter. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder once more.  Master Ansem said nothing, but offered a sincere smile and a reassuring nod. Swallowing down his apprehension, Lea finally stepped into the room.

Ienzo, back in his white apprentice’s labcoat, approached him with a friendly smile as soon as he entered.  “Lea, you made it. It’s good to see you.”

“Hi there, Ienzo.  Is he here? Is he awake?”

“Let me take you to him.  He’s not awake yet, but Even thinks it’ll be soon.”

Ienzo escorted Lea across the room to a far corner where, lying in a heap on the cold tile was the motionless body of Isa.  Just like Lea, he had re-completed in his black leather Organization coat. Even was knelt beside him with an electronic notepad, typing numbers into it as Lea approached.  He rose to his feet and gave Lea an update before heading off to join Ienzo.

“He’s coming around.  You’re just in time.”

As Isa began to stir, Lea lowered himself to his knees, leaning in to see his friend’s face.  He looked quite peaceful. His eyes were still closed, and at first only his fingers twitched intermittently.  Lea watched silently as his breaths accelerated to a more awakened pace. His eyelids flickered, and he moaned sleepily as he was slowly roused from unconsciousness.

Lea nudged him gently on the shoulder, whispering softly to him. “Isa… wake up.  It’s me. Open your eyes.”

His eyes flickered halfway open briefly before closing again, his brow furrowed in an effort to pull himself out of his slumber.  Knowing how little Isa slept during his service in the Organization, Lea hated to disturb him, but he persisted, calling to his friend again.  “Come on, sleepyhead. It’s time to wake up.”

Isa managed to flutter his eyes open, staring blankly at the floor and blinking the sleep away.  He timidly lifted his head with an effortful grunt, struggling to support the weight of his upper body with his arms.  His movements were gradual and deliberate as he propped himself up on his elbows. Disoriented, his gaze wandered all around before fixing on Lea’s grinning face as his vision sharpened into focus.

“Lea…?  Is that you…?”  His voice was hoarse, every word a raspy croak with several breaths in between.  Lea beamed at his friend, thrilled that he finally recognized him.

“Sure is.  Good morning, Isa.”

He extended a hand to his friend, carefully helping him into an upright position.  Isa sat there on his hands and knees with his head hanging, still quite weak, catching his breath.  As the fog in his head cleared, he became more coherent and was able to raise his head. He scanned the room, observing his surroundings before letting his eyes meet Lea’s.  Lea gave him a warm smile and broke the silence on Isa’s behalf.

“How do you feel, Isa?”

Isa lowered his eyes in thought, not answering right away.  He seemed to take notice of Lea’s attire, still wearing his black Organization coat.  He examined the coat for a long time before looking down at his own matching ensemble.  Without a word, he inspected nearly every inch of his coat, tugging at the hood straps, running his fingers down the zipper, and grasping the thick leather on his wide sleeves.  He stared at his hands, his expression blank and lost.

“Isa…?”

He slowly clenched his hands into fists as his vacant expression became troubled.  To both of their surprise, his eyes welled up and tears spilled down his face. Overwhelmed, he dropped his head as his composure collapsed and he wept openly.  Lea cautiously laid a hand on his shoulder, and when Isa didn’t pull away or protest, Lea gently guided him into his arms, embracing him tightly. Isa succumbed to uncontrollable sobs as he buried his face in Lea’s coat.  Neither shushing him nor speaking any words, Lea held him close and allowed him the time to finally feel safe, for as long as he needed it.

There was a shuffling of footsteps as the other apprentices hurried out of the room in consideration of Isa’s privacy, leaving behind only silence as the two sat on the floor just holding each other tightly.  Lea was patient and tender as he waited for Isa’s anguish to subside, gently dragging his hand up and down his old friend’s back. He let Isa wind down at his own pace, and gradually the sobs dissipated enough for Isa to speak between them.  In his grief, he could only manage short phrases with little substance to them other than basic human needs and raw emotion.

“Please… don’t let go…”

“I won’t.  I’ve got you.”

“Stay…”

“I’m here.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Although the crying had ceased, Isa still clung tightly to Lea, grateful for his friend’s stability as the memories rushed into his head, saturating his mind with images he thought he’d long forgotten.  Pain throbbed at his temples and across his forehead, and he grew dizzy from the spinning of his thoughts. His eyes burned from the tears and his torso ached from the force of his sobs. His energy spent, he let his body relax into the comfort of Lea’s embrace.

Resting there, Isa lifted his gaze to see him, soothed by his calm smile.  His mind overflowed with things he wanted to say to him, but no words passed his lips.  Ever an expert at reading his face, Lea effortlessly interpreted his expression, and was honored that Isa had spared a moment to think of him.  Tears filled his eyes as he saw the emotion on Isa’s face, having waited so many years to see something other than cold contempt. His lapse elicited a soft chuckle from Isa.

“No… don’t you start, too…”

Lea laughed as they both wiped their faces, overjoyed to see Isa smile for the first time in years.  The occasional apprentice popped in every so often to fiddle with a piece of equipment before rushing back out with their eyes averted.  Isa watched each of them intently as they came through. The feelings his former comrades invoked washed over him as if they were a tangible force, drenching him in the noise and chaos of his reawakened emotions.  Wincing at the sting of remorse, he dropped his head once more, tears falling from his face and into a glistening puddle on the floor.

His shaking breaths interrupted his speech, but with a shuddering sigh, he endeavored to untangle the mess in his heart and experience each emotion individually.  He struggled to articulate his feelings through his disorganized thoughts, and he spoke to Lea in broken sentences, desperate to make sense of the pain that burned deeply inside him.

“I see their faces… and I feel… overwhelmed…”

Laying a supportive hand on his shoulder, Lea met Isa’s gaze with compassion and understanding in his eyes.  He smiled warmly as he gently cupped his chin, reminding him that he was among friends.

“Isa… you’re safe.  You’re free.”

Those words were all it took, and Isa lost control again, weeping softly into his hands as Lea slid his arms around him once more.  With Isa’s face buried in his shoulder, Lea whispered softly to him, hoping to keep him talking so that he could begin to calm down again.  Isa tried and failed many times to initiate the dialogue, the words lost to his gasps and sobs. Lea graciously took the lead, allowing Isa the time to regain his breath and collect his thoughts.

“Come now, Isa.  Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“It’s all a mess… There are so many… They’ve come all at once…”

“It must be disorienting.”

“They’re so loud…”

“Can you remember what they are?”

Isa was silent, still catching his breath.  He let go of Lea with his head lowered, deep in thought.  He closed his eyes, concentrating on recognizing and identifying the emotions inside him.  With difficulty, he began to separate some of the feelings out, confronting them one by one as they became clear.

The foremost was his guilt.  It stabbed at him, practically puncturing right into his sternum.  The wrongs he had committed weighed heavily on his conscience, and the shame left a sour taste in his mouth.  Dragging him down into the depths was his regret for the lost time. He sank into his remorse and was pulled under before another emotion yanked him out of the pool of grief.  Anger began to burn through his veins, like his blood had turned to magma. He was angry at everything; himself, Lea, Xehanort, there was no one target for his rage. The intensity of the experience worked him up again, nearly boiling over beneath his skin.  Piercing through the chaos straight to his center was the fear, pounding thunderously on the walls of his chest. He recalled the panic of realizing his heart was gone, and the confusion that followed, trying to understand how he was still alive. He remembered the looks on his comrade’s faces as they realized what they had done, and what had been done to them.  The mounting tidal wave inside him threatened to crash, and he pressed his palms to his ears to block out the deafening sound of anguished cries buried deep inside his memories.

“It’s alright, Isa.  Face them. You buried them away for years.  Don’t shut them out.”

“I don’t know how…”

“Let them in so that they can pass.”

“Lea, they’re so loud!”

“I know.  They finally have a voice.  Let them speak.”

Lea had known Isa since the two were young teens.  He’d seen every side of him, good and bad, strong and weak, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the usually quiet and reserved man so afraid.  Watching as his friend let the emotions envelop him filled his heart with pity. Isa needed this, and Lea couldn’t help but feel relieved, even thrilled that his catharsis had finally come.  But at the same time, he lamented that it was hurting him so much.

Isa trembled violently, wheezing loudly between sobs, desperately grasping at Lea’s coat.  Lea opened his arms and cradled him, sweeping away the tears from his swollen, tired eyes.

“Breathe slowly, Isa.  Listen…”

Isa laid against his chest again, listening through the walls to the soft static of his breaths.  He nearly lost it all over again when he heard the sound of a steady, gentle beating against his ear.  It took some time, but after a few moments, he matched the rhythm of Lea’s breaths, mesmerized by the quiet drumming of his heart.  His shaking body settled as he reigned in his breakdown, finally still enough to speak again.

“I was weak…”

“It’s okay to be weak.  Weakness is human.”

Isa dropped his head, unconvinced.  He had been referring to the years he spent in the Organization, sacrificing his humanity out of a lust for power, throwing away his most valued friendship with jealousy, bitterness, and resentment, and destroying innocent lives to regain his lost sense of purpose.  In Isa’s eyes, those actions were far weaker than any emotional outburst could ever be.

Lea gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, smiling softly at him.  Always such a good companion, he had never failed to bring light to the darkest of circumstances.  It was one of the things Isa liked — and missed — most about him.

Taking notice of a change in Isa’s expression, Lea inquired about his thoughts.  “What’s on your mind?”

Isa sniffled, dragging his sleeve across his face.  “It has been so long since I’ve felt such joy, elation… gratitude…”

Lea’s face lit up at these words.  “You’re happy to see me.”

“I missed you, Lea.”

“Aw, now you’ve done it…”

Lea was so moved by Isa’s declaration of affection that he could no longer contain himself.  His throat tightened as his eyes began to burn. He threw his arms around him and held on for dear life.  Isa returned the favor and hastily grasped him around the shoulders. They clung tightly to each other and cried until they ached.  So thrilled were they to be reunited that suddenly the wasted years no longer mattered, and making up for lost time was an idle fantasy no more.  For now, being together again, safe in each other’s arms, was all they needed.

They let their intimate moment run for what could have been either seconds or weeks for all they knew.  The apprentices slowly trickled back into the room, sniffling and wiping their eyes, prompting the two to part at last, drying their faces and giggling bashfully.  With Lea’s help, Isa rose carefully his feet. He was unsteady at first, wavering where he stood and holding tightly to Lea for balance. Ienzo rushed over when he noticed Isa was finally standing, giving him a thorough once-over from all angles.

“As expected, you appear quite healthy.  Are you in any pain? Dizzy? Nauseated?”

Isa stammered, caught off-guard by Ienzo’s sudden barrage of questions.  “I— yes, but it’s clearing away now.”

“Good.  Well, you get passing marks from me.  Welcome back, Isa.”

“Thank you, Ienzo.”

As the young apprentice strolled off to resume his work, his fingers flying across the electronic pad he carried, Isa turned to the large, reflective window at the other end of the room.  He contemplated for several seconds before deciding to head in that direction. Still weak in the legs, he slowly limped to the window to gaze at his reflection, with Lea following closely behind.

He stared into the window for a long time, absorbing the appearance of his own features.  To his relief, his eyes, though bloodshot and puffy from crying, were no longer amber, and his ears had been restored to their rounded state, but as he examined his face, his attention was drawn to one area in particular.  He removed a glove and raised a hand to his forehead. Slowly and with the lightest touch, he traced his fingers along the X-shaped sigil etched into the skin between his eyes, unsure of how to respond to its presence. His head ached with the sudden rush of memories, leading him to conclude that perhaps its purpose was to serve as a reminder of his misdeeds.  In that case, he decided that it made for a fitting punishment, to be forced to remember his cruel transgressions every time he looked himself in the face.

Lea approached him cautiously, allowing him the space and the time to process what he saw in his reflection.  He couldn’t tell if Isa’s expression was one of repulsion and lamentation or one of curiosity and intrigue. He could think of no words to say to him.

“I suppose… I should have expected that it would be permanent.”

Isa stared blankly at his mirror image while absentmindedly stroking the harsh lines of his ghastly scar with his fingertips.  Lea, still lost for words, hesitated before responding to him. “Well… I guess we retain the damage to our physical bodies.”

“It would seem so,” Isa replied thoughtfully.  “All the same, I deserved it.”

“Isa…”

“So devout was I that I allowed myself to be branded as proof of my loyalty.  I deserved it then, and I deserve it now.”

“Isa, that wasn’t a branding.  It was a punishment. Xemnas let you believe you could earn his favor, when really he just wanted to keep you in line.”

“Then I was gullible.  And now… I am humbled.”

Lea remembered the event quite well.  Isa’s early days in the Organization were devoted to tracking down the friend they’d met in the castle as children.  He stopped at nothing to snoop around in forbidden places for clues to her whereabouts, and must have been caught dozens of times before Xemnas finally lost his patience.  Isa was nearly thrown out of the Organization altogether — faced with either being turned into a Dusk or accepting this gruesome alternative. Lea winced as the painful image of Xemnas mercilessly dragging his Ethereal Blades across Isa’s face shot to the forefront of his mind.  In one quick slash, his friend was on his knees, blood spilling onto the floor. Lea would never forget Xemnas’s sinister smile as he praised Isa for his dedication.

“What a shame.  I had such a handsome face.”

Lea chuckled, glad to see Isa taking a light-hearted approach to his unfortunate circumstances.  “Well… it could be worse. You could look like Braig.”

Isa shuddered, visibly repulsed by the idea.  He found his disfigurement to be unsightly, but it was practically a work of art compared to the damage inflicted on Braig.  He left his face alone and moved on to his attire, plucking at his black leather coat with disgust. As Lea stepped closer to the window, Isa was reminded that his friend also wore it, even after all this time.

“Why are you still wearing the coat?”

Lea lowered his eyes, answering him in a solemn tone.  “I had a lot of friends still trapped in this coat. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off until I knew they could, too.”

“Solidarity… that’s very noble.”

Lea scratched his head bashfully, “It was either save my friends or suffer alongside them.”

Isa thought for a moment in silence as he stared at the battered garment.  He’d always hated the wretched thing. Most of the Organization could agree that the coats were too heavy, too warm, and too stiff.  He would likely never be able to forget the scent of a fellow comrade returning from a mission having spent the day sweating inside the impermeable material.  Isa couldn’t wait to be out of it at last, and eagerly looked forward to the longest shower of his life.

“Was I the last one?  Trapped by the coat?”

Lea stroked his chin in mock-contemplation before grinning at his friend. “Yes, you were the last friend I had to save.”

“Then…” Isa declared with determination. “Get this filthy thing off me.”


	2. Home Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I would write another chapter to this. It was just supposed to be an epilogue. But the words come out and I don’t choose where or when.

“Okay, Isa, what do you think?”

Lea stepped confidently out of the bathroom, freshly showered, ready to show off his new ensemble.  Every garment seemed to match his personality perfectly, from the glamorous red jeans to the casual plaid button-down and all the way to the stylish black boots.  Isa looked up just long enough for a brief glance before returning his gaze to the floor.

“It suits you.”

Lea rolled his eyes, exasperated at the struggle to get a compliment out of his old friend.  “Sheesh, tough crowd. You want me to put the other one back on?”

“The other one was hideous.”

Lea scoffed at Isa’s indifference.  “Okay Mister Fashionista, do you at least like yours?”

Isa shrugged, still not raising his head.  “It’s comfortable.”

“That’s all?  Nothing else?”

“It doesn’t smell like leather, sweat, and shame.”

Lea chuckled at his observation.  Humorous as it was, there was quite a bit of truth behind his statement.  All the washing in the world could never have purged the horrendous smells of body odor from those coats.  “I’ll give you that. I’d have worn a dress if it meant I could get out of that coat.”

Isa looked up at him with a smirk. “Now that I’d like to see.”

To Lea’s surprise and delight, Isa began to laugh.  It was small, only a few soft giggles, but it was progress.  Lea was nearly overcome by emotion at seeing him smile again, and frantically waved away the tears welling up in his eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

Sniffling, Lea quickly regained his composure, hoping Isa hadn’t seen his momentary lapse.  “Nothing, sorry… You ready to head downstairs?”

Isa sighed, staring blankly at the wall, appearing to be deep in thought.  “Not really.”

“You want to sit and talk for awhile first?”

Isa didn’t respond, still focused intently on the wall.  Without a word, Lea cautiously joined him on the chaise, waiting patiently for him to reveal what was on his mind.  Master Ansem had informed them that all of his current and former apprentices were welcome to stay in his castle for as long as they liked, and the first thing Isa wanted after being given time alone was to take a shower.  Try as he might, he could never wash away the blemish on his past or the shame it brought him. Though he sat under the water for what felt like hours, he could not feel truly clean.

He looked over at the face of his friend as he lounged beside him.  Lea’s expression still emoted compassion, understanding, and support.  He seemed to carry no bitterness or resentment, and for that Isa was grateful.  It was far more than he deserved. After several seconds of silence Isa had finally collected his thoughts, disorganized as they were, and initiated his explanation.

“Do you remember the day before the battle?  When I visited you on the clock tower?”

Lea raised an eyebrow, his face falling into a sour frown.  “Yeah, you were kind of an ass.”

“Yes.  I know.  It was intentional.”

Lea crossed his arms, determined to maintain his patience until Isa made his point.  “Just trying to mess with my head so I’d screw up in the battle?”

“No…”  Isa finally looked Lea in the eyes, exposing the pain in his own.  “Lea, I went up to the clock tower to taunt you so that you wouldn’t hold back.  I needed to get you angry enough to put an end to me and release me from Xehanort’s grasp.  I couldn’t afford for you to hesitate.”

Lea gaped at him with a saddened look on his face.  “Isa… if you were having second thoughts then, you should have just told me.  I could have helped you. I could have—”

“No, there was no helping me.  It was too late by then. I regret every bit of it… but it was necessary.”

Lea winced at the painful memory, hoping there would be a happy ending to this sad speech.  He recalled promising Isa that he would clobber him in the heat of his anger, only to be taken aback by Isa’s peculiar response.  With a smile on his face and a peaceful expression, he told Lea he expected no less. It wasn’t until this very moment that Lea understood what he meant.

“You know, Isa… there was nothing you could have said that would make me angry enough to want to kill you in cold blood.  Every blow I landed on you hurt like hell. I fought you because I had to, not because of anger or hatred…”

Isa was quiet for a long time, desperately trying to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.  When he finally resumed the conversation, he spoke softly, his voice shaking on nearly every other word.  “When it was over, I asked you why you were sad… You pitied me. You were disappointed in what I had become.  You were mourning me, mourning us… But for the first time in many years… I was elated. I knew that I was finally free.  My body was broken and I was in terrible pain, but I was overjoyed. And just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get any better… yours was the last face I got to see.”

“Okay, Isa, I just lined my eyes and if you make me cry it off…”

Isa could not help but smile at his friend before dropping his head again.  “Lea… Why did you go to the clock tower that day?”

Thrown off by the question, Lea thought for a moment before responding, thankful to be momentarily distracted from his impending breakdown.  “We were supposed to be rested for the battle… And I suppose it was our last chance to go home and say goodbye, in case we didn’t make it. That clock tower felt more like home to me than anywhere else.”

Isa turned and gazed directly at his companion, his eyes red and threatening to spill tears down his face again.  “I went there for a similar purpose. To feel at peace, and say goodbye to the closest thing I ever had to ‘home.’”

“The clock tower?”

“No.  You. Got it memorized?”

“Damn it, Isa…”

They both jumped to their feet and locked themselves in yet another tight embrace, weeping softly into each others’ shoulders and drenching their new clothes with tears.  Lea delicately laced his fingers through Isa’s long blue hair, unable to remember the last time he could touch it. To his delight, it felt just as silky as it did back then.  Isa’s arms around him were strong and protective as they pulled him closer, gently caressing his back with his fingertips. Lea squeezed his friend in turn, his slender arms wrapped securely around his companion as if to hold him together in case he fell apart.

Unwilling to let go, they remained in the safety of each other’s warmth for a long while, even long after the intensity of their crying had slowed to gasps and sniffles and then eventually faded into silence.  With eyes closed, they let their tears dry as they listened to the mesmerizing sound of their breathing, so spent that they could have fallen asleep where they stood.

Eventually, and reluctantly so, they broke their hold to look upon each other’s faces again.  Lea had missed Isa’s eyes, a brilliant teal color that made them sparkle in just the right lighting.  Isa had missed Lea’s smile, and the way it gave his skin a pleasant glow as he laughed. Neither could think of a word to say, and so they said nothing at all, content with nonverbal communication for the time being.

To Lea’s surprise, Isa reached up and gently stroked his cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears on his face.  Remembering that he’d been wearing eyeliner, Lea frantically brushed his fingers under his eyes, hoping there were no embarrassing dark streaks there.  Isa giggled as he watched. “Why do you put that stuff on your face, anyway?”

“Because it looks better!  I’ve always worn it.”

“You don’t need it.”

Lea gasped, stunned by his words.  “Isa… you complimented me!”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Isa had forgotten how good laughter felt.  There was a euphoria to it, as if he were blissfully floating high above the ground.  As they chuckled together at his joke, he wished it wouldn’t end. Having restored his facial decoration, Lea extended a hand to his friend.  “Are you ready now?”

 

With only a silent nod, Isa clasped his hand, eliciting a smile and a reassuring squeeze from Lea, and with newfound courage, followed him out the door to embrace his second chance and greet the new friends waiting downstairs.


	3. Humble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa’s atonement begins with just one of many much-needed apologies.

Isa sat on the edge of the fountain, listening to the breeze, watching the sun sink into the horizon.  The rays painted the sky like a canvas, blending the pink and orange hues together like glistening watercolors.  As far as he was concerned, Twilight Town’s namesake could never compete with this sunset. Radiant Garden, his hometown, was every bit as radiant as Isa remembered.

He breathed in the cool, fresh air, letting himself relax after escaping the chaos that was the gathering inside the castle.  Always a natural introvert, Isa despised crowds and social events, and was always quite comfortable to hide in the shadows and become intimately acquainted with the wall.  He envied Lea for his charisma, always dumbfounded by how effortlessly his friend could mingle in any situation.

In his distracted state, he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching him.  He started, surprised to find someone sitting beside him. When he recognized who had joined him, his stomach dropped and he nearly lost his nerve and ran away.

“Roxas…!”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh… Yes.  Yes, I’m fine.  I just… I’ve never been comfortable with crowds.”

Roxas gave him a nod and a warm smile.  “I understand. It’s overwhelming.”

Isa was silent again, completely lost for words.  What could he possibly say after what they’d been through?  In his jealousy, he was cold and antagonistic to Roxas for the better part of the one year he got to be alive.  Then, the first thing he did after Roxas was brought back from Sora’s heart was try to kill him. It was a wonder why the kid even came outside.

“Radiant Garden sure has nice sunsets.  Almost as nice as Twilight Town.”

“Yeah.”

“You lived here, right?”

“Yes… I was born here.  Lea and I grew up in this town.”

“Must be great to come back to it.  I can’t wait to go home…”

Isa ran out of words again.  He wondered just where did Roxas consider his home to be, since the only places he’d lived while he was alive were the Castle that Never Was and a computer simulation of Twilight Town.  He pitied the boy, saddened by the thought of having no home to return to.

They watched the sun in silence for several minutes.  It seemed to drop more slowly than usual, almost beckoning the two to converse some more.  Isa’s mind swirled with thoughts; things he wanted to say, things he ought to say, things he couldn’t bring himself to say.  He closed his eyes, summoning the fortitude to speak, but thankfully, Roxas broke the ice for him.

“You know, Saïx, I— sorry.  Isa.”

Isa made no outward reaction to hearing his Organization name, only wincing internally at the memories it invoked.

“Isa, I heard that it was you who asked Vexen to create a replica for me… that I have you to thank for bringing me back.”

Isa didn’t respond right away, feeling quite unworthy of his thanks.  “It hardly makes up for anything else I did…”

“But, it was a start.  And… I appreciate it.”

Isa turned to find Roxas smiling at him.  The glint in his eyes filled Isa with regret.

“Roxas… I’ve done nothing that warrants your gratitude.  I was a monster. I’ll never be worthy of the kindness you are showing me.”

Roxas was quiet for a long while.  As the sun disappeared from view, they listened to the splash of running water from the fountain, the chirp of crickets, and the whistle of the breeze.  Isa watched intently as the moon made its first appearance, glowing brightly in the darkening sky. Whether he had a heart or not, the moon’s beauty never faded for him.

“You’re right, Isa.”

Snapped out of his trance, Isa looked over at Roxas, failing to understand what he meant.  “Hmm?”

“You were a monster.  You’re right. And you’ll have to answer for that.  Xion and I might not be ready to forgive you right away.  You’ve gotta earn that now.”

Isa lowered his eyes with a defeated shrug.  “That’s sensible.”

“But… you’re still a person, and people deserve that chance to atone.  It just takes time.”

Isa couldn’t fathom how Roxas could be so merciful.  His eyes were filled with hurt and resentment, but softened when they looked on Isa, and compassion shone through the pain.  Isa’s respect for the boy deepened, and he could not help but smile at him. “You’re wise beyond your years, Roxas.”

The light of the sun had all but vanished, replaced by the gleaming light of the moon.  Resting in its cool beams, Isa gazed at the stars, flickering against the darkness overhead.  He began to wonder how long they’d sat out there, and why no one had come looking for them, but appreciated the recovery period all the same.

“Isa, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said… that day.”

Isa felt an all-too familiar twinge in his chest at the memory.  Struck down in disgrace and lying in the sand at the feet of his former friend, knowing it could be the last time he saw him but still unable to let go of his anger.  He recalled the humiliation of admitting his jealousy and resentment while his adversaries watched him die with pity on their faces. Even in his last moments, lying in Lea’s arms as he faded away, he was a petty bastard to the bitter end.

“I didn’t know you were close friends before… I can see how it must have looked, with me and Xion showing up and—“

“Roxas… pay no heed to the childish ramblings of a pitiful, insecure man like I was.  Lea wasn’t— Axel… Axel was not at fault, and neither were you.”

Roxas said nothing, skeptical of Isa’s response.  Isa could feel his eyes on him, knowing he was waiting for more.  With a heavy sigh, Isa reluctantly continued his explanation. It was the least he could do for Roxas.

“It’s true, Lea and I were friends.  We grew apart after we joined the Organization.  I became cold and distant after losing my heart. Lost sight of my true purpose.  I pushed him away, and away he went. I don’t blame him for finding other friends…”

Isa could feel something building up in his chest as he wrapped himself up in the painful memories.  “I came to deeply resent him for leaving me behind. Without him, I was alone. The pain festered into rage and I buried it away.  After awhile I managed to convince myself that I could truly feel nothing.”

The regret left a lingering ache inside him, puncturing through his sternum and burning into his center.  It was there where he carried the bottled-up fury, anguish, and loneliness for all those years, believing that they were gone for good.  Now, it felt as though someone had uncorked the bottle, letting the hurt spill out and flood into his soul. He dropped his head into his hands, concealing his lapse in composure from Roxas.

“Isa… Axel has made some mistakes.  Some pretty big ones… But he’s a good friend.  He would never have abandoned you.”

Isa, trembling with the effort of suppressing the onslaught of emotion threatening to explode out of him, couldn’t spit out any of the words he wanted to say.  He knew Lea would never have forgotten their friendship. He knew Roxas and Xion never intended to take his place. He knew he didn’t have to spend all those years lonely and hurting if only he could have let his guard down for just long enough to let somebody in.  He knew he brought it all on himself, and that not one bit of it would ever excuse his actions thereafter. That made it all the more agonizing to come to terms with, and all the time in the world could never heal the wounds he inflicted.

A hand was laid on his back.  He flinched, unprepared for the touch, but did not protest its presence.  His eyes began to burn again as he felt tears welling up in them. He covered his face as they flowed down his cheeks, hiding his shame behind his shaking hands.  Just how many more times was he going to cry now that he’d become human again?

They stayed there by the fountain for a long while as Isa softly wept, his tears falling onto the stone path beneath him.  Roxas didn’t move a muscle or make a sound, his hand still resting on Isa’s back. He tried to mask the shock on his face, stunned to see what used to be the coldest and most emotionless man he’d ever met now crying openly beside him.  After several minutes, Isa’s sobs slowed to a stop, and he lifted his head, wiping his eyes and sniffling. He took several rattling breaths to regain his composure and looked at Roxas directly in the eye. With a quivering voice, he finally uttered the words he’d been trying to say all evening.

“Roxas… I’m sorry.”

Roxas stared at him, mouth agape, for several seconds.  To his surprise, his own eyes filled with tears and his throat grew tight.  Although Isa’s transgressions were many, and his past hostility could not simply be brushed off after one night, Roxas was deeply moved by his apology.  He came to realize that he was looking at a broken man who had lost everything, now trying to put the pieces of his life back together. His heart overflowed with sympathy, whether Isa deserved it or not.

“Thank you, Isa.  It means a lot… to hear you say that.”

They shared a warm smile, ending their conversation on a positive note.  Roxas headed back into the castle to join the others, leaving Isa alone with his thoughts once more.  He looked up at the stars again, watching shapes and patterns form between them. He remembered many nights gazing up at these same stars with Lea, and was pleased to find that they hadn’t changed, even after all these years.

“They still sparkle like they used to, don’t they?”

Isa jumped, startled by the unexpected voice.  Lea sat beside him in the place previously occupied by Roxas.  He smiled at Isa, who frantically wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks.  Lea giggled, laying a reassuring hand on Isa’s shoulder.

“Relax, man.  I just came to check on you.  I saw you out here with Roxas and figured you didn’t want to be disturbed.  It seems like you had a good talk.”

“Yes… we did.  Roxas is… a remarkable person.”

Lea beamed at him, thrilled to see that two of the people he most cared for were finally getting along.  He remained hopeful that they could eventually become friends, even if it would take a very long time.

“He really is.  I’m glad you’re getting to know him.  And I’m glad you’re opening up and letting him see the Isa that I know.”

They stared at the black abyss that was the night sky for what felt like hours.  The moon gradually sailed across the darkness until it hung right over their heads, showering them in its radiant glow.  Yawning and stretching, Lea turned to his friend with tired eyes.

“Well, Isa, most everyone has gone to sleep.  Are you tired?”

Feeling his eyelids grow heavy with fatigue, Isa longed to sleep, but was hesitant.  Sleep was a rarity for him during his time with the Organization. Countless nights he lay awake in bed, begging for even a moment’s rest.  He only ever achieved a few hours once or twice a month, if any, but those hours were plagued with nightmares. He would often forego the ritual altogether and spend his nights in Addled Impasse, gazing out the tall windows at the moon until dawn.

“Exhausted, now that you mention it…”

“Let’s go upstairs.  I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Lea… I…”

Isa stammered, unsure how to ask for what he needed.  The two of them were given separate rooms to sleep in, since Master Ansem had no shortage of guest quarters, but Isa grew increasingly wary of having to spend entire nights alone, knowing the nightmares could very well still torment him even as a human.  As a Nobody, he could convince himself that he was incapable of being afraid. As a human, he was scared to death.

Seeing clearly the fear on Isa’s face, Lea extended a hand to him with a warm and comforting smile, gently lifting him to his feet and accompanied him back inside Master Ansem’s Castle.  “Say no more, Isa. I won’t leave you alone.”

* * *

_ It wasn’t supposed to hurt…  He promised it wouldn’t hurt… Why, then, do I feel this excruciating pain in my chest?  The emptiness… the loss… the haunting absence where my heart used to be…  _

_ Lea… he got to you, too… Please, don’t cry, Lea…  _

_ We’ve been fooled… I promise, I’ll get our hearts back… no matter what it takes… _

_ You must fight him, Lea… Don’t let him in… It’s too late for me… Run, now, while you still can…  Don’t forget about me… _

_ Get out, Xehanort…!  Give me back my heart…! _

_ Lea…!  Help me…! _

* * *

“No!!  Where is my heart?!”

His eyes sprang open to see only pitch blackness replace the sinister face of Xehanort grinning at him from above.  He was being stabbed… impaled through the chest. He was certain of it. He reached for the wound, but felt nothing there but his own skin.  Something pounded beneath his sternum, like the rapid beating of a drum. He couldn’t breathe. Someone touched his shoulder, whispering from behind his head.

“Isa… Hey, wake up, Isa… You’re dreaming…”

“It hurts… It wasn’t supposed to hurt!  You promised it wouldn’t hurt!”

“Isa, it’s alright, it was just a dream—“

“Leave him alone!  Why, Xehanort?! Why…?!”

“Isa!  Hey, come here… relax…”

Someone was pulling at him, dragging him away into the depths.  He resisted with all his strength. An arm was tightly wrapped around him, suffocating him, threatening to swallow him just like before.  He refused to disappear this time. He fought the intruder in desperation.

“Get out!  Get out of my heart!  I will not be a husk for your filth!”

“Stop it, Isa, you’re going to fall out of bed.  Calm down…”

“Release me!  Give me back my heart!!”

“Isa, it’s me!  Xehanort is gone!”

Isa was weak.  The interloper was powerful.  He succumbed to its advances and collapsed into despair.  His body convulsed violently with the force of his sobs, soaked with sweat and tears.  “So empty… So hollow… Kingdom Hearts… where… is my heart…?”

There was a warmth at his back.  Finally, he recognized the presence as the haze cleared and the voice became familiar.  “Shhh… Isa, it’s okay… It was just a dream… we still have our hearts…”

“Lea… it’s all gone… he took our friendship… I feel nothing…”

“You were having a nightmare, Isa.  It wasn’t real.”

“Come back… please, come back…”

“I’m right here, Isa.”

He allowed Lea to pull at him again, gently rolling him over to face his friend.  He buried his face in Lea’s chest, slowing his frantic hyperventilation in the safety of his friend’s arms.  After several minutes pressed against Lea’s skin, listening to his steady breathing and soft whispers, the panic gradually subsided, leaving only anguish in its place.

“He invaded my body with his putrid essence… He was inside me… Replaced my feelings with his own… I was violated…”

“It’s alright now, Isa… You’re here with me.  You’re safe… He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I could feel him… I could hear him…”

“He’s gone.  It was just a dream.”

Isa was quiet again, lying in Lea’s warm embrace with his eyes closed.  He became aware of a low thumping sound coming from inside Lea’s chest. He rested his palm there, taking comfort in the moderate rhythm of its beating.

“Do you hear that, Isa?  My heart is right back where it belongs.  Yours is, too. You can probably feel it. Just listen…”

Isa concentrated keenly on the drumming in his own chest.  It was loud and clear. It’s pace was perhaps too rapid, but it was strong and it was steady.  As his breathing slowed, so too did the beating inside him, and he calmed down considerably. Sleep beckoned him once more, and he felt himself succumbing to the temptation, but in his fear, he jolted himself awake every time he began to drift.  He fought the exhaustion with what little energy he had, terrified of falling into another nightmare.

Lea combed his fingers through Isa’s hair, hoping the gentle motion might lull him into the sleep he so desperately needed.  “You’re tired, Isa. Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.  You need to sleep.”

“Lea…”

“I’ll be right here to protect you.  I’ll jump right into your dreams and I’ll kill those phantoms with my bare hands.  Now go to sleep or I’ll start singing a lullaby.”

Isa laughed at Lea’s witty threat.  “Anything but that…”

Lea smiled, pleased to have returned Isa to better spirits before he fell back under.  “Ouch, love you too! Goodnight, rude boy.”

Isa hesitated, knowing he would soon have to surrender to his exhaustion.  He pressed himself closer to Lea, putting his trust in his friend to keep his word and protect him until morning.  Feeling Lea’s arms reflexively tighten around him gave him a sense of security he never had sleeping alone. He relaxed deeply into that safe feeling, finally letting sleep overtake him for the night.

“Goodnight, Lea.”


	4. The Highest Hill

The next few days passed in pretty much the same way as the first few.  Lea rarely let Isa out of his sight, happy to keep him company during his readjustment.  Isa preferred to isolate himself, sometimes requiring hours of preparation and coaxing just to talk to someone.  The only person he felt safe with was Lea, and he was quite comfortable hiding in Lea’s shadow wherever he went. Isa continued to show signs of severe emotional trauma, experiencing frightening hallucinations and flashbacks at random intervals.  His soft skin began to roughen up from all the time he spent in the shower, still trying and failing to scrub away his shame. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying, outlined with dark circles from lack of sleep. He often appeared pale and gaunt from refusing to eat, always citing an upset stomach to alleviate suspicions.

Lea left his own bedroom largely untouched, spending every night with Isa, who still suffered from regular night terrors.  One particular morning, over a week since Isa’s recompletion, Lea awoke to find he was alone in bed, wondering where Isa had taken off to.  After hastily dressing himself he headed into the hallway and downstairs to the tall doors of the main entrance. It was still early enough that no one was awake yet, and Lea was able to leave the castle undetected.  Operating on a hunch, he left the castle grounds entirely and followed the road leading outside the boundaries of town. It was a brisk morning, the sun barely having risen above the horizon. Just outside Radiant Garden lay a series of lush green meadows and a hilly countryside.  Lea had a pretty good idea of the exact spot where he would find Isa, and upon arriving in that spot, he discovered that he was right.

“Isa!  How long have you been out here?  You scared the crap out of me!”

Isa turned to his friend, his shoulders slumped with guilt.  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep. It was a full moon last night.  I came out here to watch.”

“Isa…” Lea rubbed his chest to quell his rapidly pounding heartbeat and catch his breath.  “Next time… you can just wake me… I’ll come along…”

“I’m a grown man, Lea.  I don’t need a chaperone to follow me everywhere I go.”  Isa snapped, glaring at Lea for the first time since before his recompletion.  Lea gasped, taken aback by the way such an image affected him. How many times had he seen that glare when Isa was Saïx?  For a moment, Lea could have sworn the man’s eyes were yellow again.

Isa caught himself right away, ashamed of his outburst.  He reached for Lea, beckoning him to lounge on the cool grass beside him.  “I’m sorry, Lea. I frightened you. Come, sit with me. You must be freezing.”

Lea, still recovering from the shock, forgave his friend’s momentary slip.  Isa was likely still sorting out his emotions and was bound to have the occasional lapse in his efforts to control them.  With a silent nod, he lowered himself onto the ground next to Isa, his breaths slowing at last. “You’ve been out here all night?”

“Most of it, yes.”

“You’re going to be tired today.”

“I’m tired all the time.”

Lea smiled, stifling his pity and joining Isa in his skywatching.  This was their stargazing spot, situated atop the tallest hill. As children, they came to this very spot night after night to look at the stars.  Isa had always been far more interested in watching the rising moon, and Lea preferred to admire the setting sun, but they shared a love for gazing at the bright stars, fantasizing about all the other worlds scattered in the blackness of the night sky.

“It’s been ages since I watched a sunrise.  This really takes me back.”

“It’s comforting to know that the sky is as lovely as it ever was.”

“Yeah.  I’m glad this spot is still here.  It’s got the best view.”

As the sun steadily rose, Isa relaxed into the soft whisper of the breeze blowing through his hair.  He let his mind wander as he watched the blades of grass bend in the wind. He smiled as he recalled the exhilaration of running up and down this very hill, rolling through this very grass.  Whether chasing a frisbee or wrestling with Lea, he had always loved the feeling of his heart drumming in his chest as he sprinted across the field. He wondered how long it had been since he’d gone for a run just to clear his head.  Now, weak and out of shape as he was, Isa assumed he would just keel over after a few steps. He lamented that he was no longer the youthful athlete he used to be.

“You remember that night when we saw the meteor shower?”

Lea’s voice jogged him out of his daze.  He had nearly forgotten that he was not alone.  “Yes, I remember. You fell asleep part way through.”

“I got to see most of it!”

Isa laughed as he relived the memory of that night.  It was cold outside, and the two boys bundled themselves up in several layers of clothes, carrying with them a mess of blankets as they climbed up their favorite hill.  The two lay on the chilly grass for hours, wishing upon the stars in silence as they huddled closely together under their blankets. Lea, always sensitive to the cold, shivered violently for nearly an hour before finally drifting away.  Isa distinctly remembered the pleasant image of watching Lea sleep, surprised to see him look so peaceful in such frigid weather. “Did you ever get your wish?”

“Yeah… I think I did.  What about you?”

“I, uh… can’t remember what I wished for.”

Isa was lying and Lea knew it very well, but out of respect for his old friend’s privacy, he chose not to pry.  Thinking back, Lea was certain he had wished to always be remembered by somebody special. As far as he was concerned, that wish was granted several times over, as Lea had made many special friends in the years since, and he trusted that they would surely remember him for as long as they lived.

_ I know I won’t forget you.  Believe me, I try all the time… _

“Lea, I’m not sure I ever expressed my appreciation for your continued support.”

Dumbstruck by his comment, Lea turned to his old friend with wide eyes.  Isa pulled his knees up, hugging them to his chest and sheepishly looking away.  “Although I don’t deserve even a second of your time, you’ve devoted all of it to getting me through my darkest hour.  I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there when I woke up. I am… deeply grateful to you.”

Lea’s face flushed, rarely ever hearing Isa thank him for anything, even before their Organization days.  Isa’s eyes glistened with gratitude as he smiled shyly at Lea. Lea couldn’t help but pause just to gaze at the man’s face for a moment.  That face used to be hard as stone. Impenetrable. His sinister expression would follow the bravest man into his nightmares. His eyes used to carry a bitterly cold glower, piercing into the minds of enemies and friends alike.  Now, that same face emitted a warmth and thoughtfulness like Lea had never seen. The sharp edges of his personality had softened into gentle curves. His once haunting eyes now shone like emeralds behind the shimmering cascades of blue hair framing his face, no longer frightening, but no less intense.  Lea found himself so captivated by Isa’s appearance that he nearly forgot to respond to his thanks.

“Isa… That’s what friends do.  Sometimes they have to lean on each other a little bit.”

Isa froze, closing his eyes as they began to water, trying desperately to swallow down the lump building in his throat.  Crying was exhausting, and he longed for a break from the burn of his dry eyes and the ache of his sore abdominal muscles.  “Your compassion is boundless.”

Lea smiled, wrapping an arm around him.  “This is the hardest thing you’ll ever do.  I want you to know that you’re not alone.”

Isa couldn’t manage another word.  Tears trickled down his cheeks yet again.  He chuckled as he wiped them away. “Four hours and thirteen minutes.”

“What’s that about?”

“That’s how long I’ve made it without crying so far.  Four hours and thirteen minutes.”

Lea laughed with him, happy to see him in such good spirits.  “I’m glad you’re learning to embrace it. And I’m honored to be your shoulder to cry on.”

They sat there watching time pass for what felt like hours.  The crisp air was beginning to warm up as the sun climbed ever higher above them.  The color of the sky transformed accordingly, the bright midday blue bleeding into the hazy morning red.  Lea closed his eyes and let the heat wash over him. Their Organization coats were always uncomfortably muggy, which rarely bothered Lea, but the sweltering heat of that thick leather could never compare to the sensation of the sun’s fiery rays beaming onto bare skin.  Sweating inside those coats was sticky and gross, but sweating outside on a hot summer afternoon was refreshing. What Lea wouldn’t give to take Isa for a swim today.

“It’s too bad the ice cream shop isn’t open this early.”  Lea, basking in the nostalgia of the moment, longed to share sea salt ice cream with Isa again, just as they had done so many times in their youth.

“Aren’t we a little old for that stuff?  It’s bad for you.”

Lea gasped with mock outrage.  “Heresy! How  _ dare  _ you speak ill of the almighty sea salt ice cream!  Blasphemer!”

Isa laughed, warming Lea’s heart again with his smile.  “Calm down, Lea, I’m only joking. We can get ice cream later.”

“Your sins are forgiven.  Ice cream later. It’s a date.”

Isa clasped his hands behind his head and laid down, staring into the distance.  “I was wondering when we were going to have that conversation.”

“Which conversation?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Lea knew exactly what he was talking about, but hoped Isa would actually say the words.  To Lea, they would seem so much more real coming from him. “Do you think you’re ready for it?”

Isa glanced at Lea briefly, studying the features on his face.  It was the cheerful expression he always seemed to wear that attracted Isa so easily.  Where his own face always looked forlorn and brooding, Lea always appeared to be on cloud nine, thrilled just to be alive.  His smile was dazzling, complete with a perfect set of dimples and two shining rows of gleaming white teeth. All these years later, the best parts of his face hadn’t changed one bit, only improving with age.

“Probably not.  I still have a mess of feelings to untangle.  I’m likely just confused.”

Lea dropped his eyes, trying not to feel disappointed by his answer.  It would be foolhardy to rush the process of putting Isa’s life back together.  Re-learning how to be human is a difficult adjustment for any former Nobody, and more so for Isa.  It would require a great deal of patience from everyone involved while Isa got used to his new emotions, and Lea was willing to wait.  Still, he supposed that he clung to that hopeful fantasy a little too tightly. So many years had passed. The two boys had grown into men, splitting off in dramatically different directions as they did so.  Their history was full of conflict, betrayal, heartache, and resentment. Isa surely hadn’t forgotten about that. Lea internally scolded himself for being so presumptuous as to assume that after all they’d been through, there would be any of  _ those  _ feelings still hiding somewhere inside Isa’s heart.

“Yeah… You’re probably right.  Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Isa learned quickly that he had said the wrong thing, but he owed Lea an honest answer.  Being with him brought up a slew of emotions, new and old, good and bad, simple and complex, intense, persistent, and overwhelming.  It could take weeks to make sense of them all. Still, he felt a twinge of guilt when he saw Lea’s face fall. What Isa wouldn’t give to just tell Lea what he thought he was feeling.  He longed to spill everything and bring them back to the way things used to be, but he couldn’t risk hurting Lea again. He had to be absolutely certain.

“I should have gone with you.”

“Hmm?”

Isa could feel his throat tightening again, wondering if he would soon regret starting this conversation.  “When you left the Organization… I lost the only connection I had to my humanity. With you gone, nothing mattered anymore.  I couldn’t remember a time where I ever felt so alone. I should have gone with you.”

Lea, taken aback by the sudden shift in the mood, turned away to hide the pain on his face.  This was an old wound he dreaded ever having to reopen. He absentmindedly picked at the blades of grass beneath him as they broached the uncomfortable subject.  “I never could understand why you didn’t.”

Isa winced at the sound of hurt in Lea’s voice.  The memory was astoundingly clear, and the pain was agonizingly fresh.  “I was… hurt. I was bitter and resentful. It was easier to just be angry at you.”

_ What are you doing?  What is this coming from? _

_ I’m getting out of here, Isa. _

_ What?!  Are you mad?!  Where will you go? _

_ It doesn’t matter.  I can’t stay here any longer. _

_ They’re going to make me come after you, Lea… _

_ I’m sorry.  My mind’s made up. _

“Then, when I heard you’d sacrificed yourself… I gave up.  There was no longer any hope of being reunited with you. In my despair, I could only let myself sink deeper into Xemnas’ trap, becoming his perfectly-trained lapdog.  There was no point in trying to escape. I had nothing to look forward to on the other side.”

_ Lea, why?  Roxas is gone.  What good will leaving do? _

_ I’ll get him back.  I don’t care what it takes.  I’ll find him. _

_ What about us, Lea?  What about our plans? _

_ That fantasy was dead long ago. _

_ How can you say that?  After everything we’ve been through, how can you throw it all away? _

_ I’ve got nothing left to lose. _

Lea, drowning in the sorrowful memories, vigorously plucked at the grass as he worked himself up.  Past echoes of anger and resentment began to ring through him. “Why did you go back to them, Isa? You were already having doubts before.  You had a chance to be free. Why did you join them again?”

With a heavy sigh, Isa sat up to look Lea in the eyes as he explained himself.  Nothing he said would ever excuse his actions, but he wanted Lea to understand them all the same.  He deserved to know. “When I first woke up, I experienced the same overwhelming flood of emotions as this.  It was equally intense and agonizing. You were still unconscious, and I was alone and terrified. Braig showed up and offered me a chance to be rid of that pain once again.  I was desperate.”

Lea scoffed with shock and disbelief.  “That’s all? Braig got to you first? If I’d woken up sooner I might have been able to—”

“No, Lea.  You mustn’t blame yourself.”

“You were coerced.  They took advantage of you when you were vulnerable.”

“Perhaps.  But that does not lift the responsibility from me.  I still made a choice.”

Lea had yanked so much grass from the ground that he was now digging into the soil.  Hot tears sprang to his eyes but he fought them off, needing this conversation to reach its conclusion before he fell apart.

_ Lea, please… please, don’t do this… don’t leave me behind…  _

_ You are more than welcome to come with me. _

_ You know I can’t do that.  Please, listen to me… _

_ I’m through listening. _

_ Lea, wait! _

_ Goodbye, Isa. _

“When I came back… I looked for you.  I tried so hard to find you, Isa. I started thinking that maybe you hadn’t recompleted at all.”  Lea was failing miserably at holding back the flood of tears threatening to explode from his eyes.  He frantically wiped away each one that trickled down his cheek, trying to stay ahead of the flow. Sniffling and with a shaking voice, he continued his portion of the story.  “Then I saw you in the Room Where Nothing Gathers… and you weren’t you. You were still Saïx. I was crushed. Devastated. That was the day when I truly felt that I had lost you.”

It was an image Lea would never forget, no matter how hard he tried.  He was holding an unconscious Sora under his arm, ready to make his escape when a hooded figure lunged at him from across the room.   _ Was that Isa’s seat?   _ He saw the weapon first — Isa’s claymore materialized behind him in an underhanded grip just as it always had.  He barely had time to react when the figure swung at him. There was a loud crash of metal on metal as their weapons collided.  The hood fell off. Blue hair fluttered out of the coat and settled around the figure’s shoulders. The man’s cold expression pierced into Lea’s heart.  The haunting yellow eyes burned through him with a sinister glare. Isa was gone. He was never coming back.

Isa grew nauseous as he watched Lea cry.  He laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping to convey his remorse.  “When I attacked you… It was like watching someone else swing the blade from behind my own eyes.  I remember a rush of anger that wasn’t entirely mine. And then, your face… I knew in that moment how deeply I had hurt you.  I wished you could have known how excruciating it was to break your heart…again.”

Lea gave up the fight and let his emotions overpower him.  He dropped his head and wept softly, burying his face in his hands, trying to make sense of his own mixed feelings.  The painful shock of that day’s events stuck with him, gnawing away at him like a parasite he couldn’t kill. He had been so convinced that all hope was lost.  He never dreamed things would turn out the way they had. The ache of grief clashed jarringly with the elation of being reunited, and the conflicting emotions twisted themselves up into knots inside Lea’s heart.

Isa tenderly stroked his friend’s back, understanding all too well what he was going through.  He shared in Lea’s anguish, hurting alongside him in solidarity. “It was after that day that I went looking for Even.  All the atonement in the world would never ease my regret, but I had to prevent Xehanort’s plans from ever coming to fruition.  I couldn’t bear the thought of being his puppet again, hurting the only people I cared about while he pulled the strings.”

Isa recalled that final day vividly.  Roxas hadn’t come. Vexen must have been unsuccessful.  He swung his blade at Lea with no more strength than he’d used back in their sparring days, hoping his old friend would finish him off once and for all.  He only picked up the intensity when he sensed Lea was holding back. When Sora showed up, he knew it was time. Everything was in place. He was ready.

Then, Xemnas interfered.  He forced Isa into his berserk state and held him there for several minutes.  All while being forced to watch, motionless and silent, Xemnas attacked and tortured Lea.  Even the berserk wasn’t strong enough to fight off the agony and trauma of witnessing such a disturbing event.  Despair overwhelmed him and he could barely contain himself, trapped in that beastly form, powerful enough to obliterate everyone in that field, yet compelled by his ‘master’ to remain still.

One of the few good memories from that day was the look on Lea’s face when Roxas appeared.  If Isa’d had a heart then, it would have warmed at the sight. Lea deserved to be happy. Isa could accept his fate now that he knew he’d given Lea the one thing he wanted most.

“I knew how powerful Roxas was.  I knew he would pummel me in no time, and that he was angry enough not to hesitate.  I barely fought at all. It was almost cathartic to just stand there and take his blows, knowing that I had succeeded in bringing him back to you.  You had already lost one best friend… I didn’t want you to have to lose any more.”

Wiping his face, Lea smiled with gratitude at his old friend.  “Isa… you have no idea what that meant to me…”

Isa knew very well what it meant to him.  He would have said so, were his throat not so tight.  In a very fortunate yet unforeseen set of circumstances, Isa was able to bring Roxas back to Lea, only for Roxas to bring Lea back to Isa.  He could never have predicted things would come full circle in the way that they had. He chided himself for failing to thank Roxas for returning such a precious favor.

“After the battle… I saw Xion.  For the first time, I saw her. She didn’t look like a faceless doll.  She looked like a person. I couldn’t believe it…”

Lea winced at the mention of Xion’s name.  Hers was a story more tragic than any other Nobody.  When Roxas was forced to disappear inside Sora, there was an emptiness in Lea’s life.  The absence of his friend was palpable and excruciating. But, when Xion was forced to suffer the same fate, all the memories of her were erased from everyone who knew her.  There was no emptiness left behind after she was gone. It was the cruelest of deaths, and Lea still hadn’t forgiven himself for forgetting about her. He couldn’t imagine how she forgave any of them.  “She always looked like that for us…”

Like Roxas, Xion only lived for about one year.  She was a replica, and Isa had never seen her as any more than a tool for the Organization to use.  Isa held her beneath contempt and made her short life as miserable as he could, right up until the day she was no more.  He lowered his eyes in shame. “I was especially cruel to her…”

Lea, speaking as much to himself as he was to Isa, attempted to ease just a fraction of his guilt with the only reassuring thing he could think to say.  “I’m sure that with time, she will come to forgive you.”

Isa leaned back in thought as he watched a collection of clouds roll in, blotting out the sun’s light.  The shadows it cast on his friend’s face only highlighted the pain and sorrow etched into it. To see such a bright and gleeful face look so despondent and heartbroken stung like daggers in Isa’s chest.  “Lea… I’m so sorry. I hurt you over and over. I hurt your friends. I hurt innocent people. I’m so… so sorry.”

Lea reached for his friend as they both began to lose control of their composure.  “Isa…”

“You meant the world to me… I cared so deeply for you… You were always there for me, and I pushed you away… I ruined us…”

Lea pulled his trembling friend close, his tone growing stern as he fought off the impending lapse in his own emotional discipline.  “Isa, stop. That’s all in the past now.”

“How could you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?”

Lea stopped to think for a moment, unsure of how to answer such a difficult question.  “It… it wasn’t easy.”

Isa waited patiently for him to elaborate.  Kicking himself for opening this can of worms, Lea endeavored to explain as best he could, praying he wouldn’t make himself look worse in the process.

“Isa… I was angry at you for a long time.  You got… dark. Cold. I stuck by you because I thought I understood what you were going through, but you kept me at a distance.  I couldn’t get close to you anymore and that hurt like hell. I resented you. And it only went downhill from there. But… well, I had a lot of time to think.  Merlin stuck me in that weird time displacement forest with Kairi to train with our new Keyblades. And let me tell you, we  _ sucked.   _ My tiny amount of combat experience amounted to little more than a small advantage over this girl who hadn’t fought a day in her life.  It reminded me a lot of the times when you and I trained together. We wanted so desperately to prove ourselves, but we sucked then, too.  Fighting with those new weapons and weird magic powers was overwhelming, but we didn’t give up. We beat the crap out of each other over and over until we figured it out.  I realized how much I missed that…”

Isa smiled at the reminder of those days.  He was always stronger than Lea, and oftentimes injured his friend pretty badly in their sparring matches.  He was glad to hear that Lea looked on those experiences with fondness rather than resentment.

“Sometimes when I was in there I’d start crying for no reason.  Sometimes I’d get so angry I would run away and take it out on an innocent bush.  Sometimes I’d eat ice cream until I puked. Sometimes I’d sleep for days on end, or go days without sleeping.  Sometimes I’d find myself paralyzed with fear because I thought for sure I saw you or heard Roxas’ voice. I was a mess.  She was so patient.”

Lea chuckled as he recalled what Kairi had to put up with, trapped in that forest with him.  Not only did he injure her a few too many times while they trained, but she was often a target for his random emotional outbursts.  Despite all of it, she insisted that he stop apologizing to her. He couldn’t believe how much of his nonsense she was willing to tolerate.

“I talked to her a lot.  She’s a damn good listener.  I told her about our past and how things used to be for us.  And she said… that true friendship transcends all obstacles. She said that if I truly didn’t want you in my life, I wouldn’t spend so much time thinking about you.  She said my face lit up when I talked about us.”

Isa’s face flushed as he listened to Lea gushing about him.  He’d heard many good things about Kairi and wished he could have met the girl.  The closest thing Isa had to a similar experience was with Xion. She was in the “Real Organization” with him, and they certainly had their conversations, but she still appeared to him as a lifeless puppet.  It was difficult to open up to someone who didn’t have a face.

“She did a lot of writing.  She would write letters to Sora that she never intended to send.  She said she just liked to talk to him, even if he never heard her voice, because it kept the connection between them alive.  I tried it myself a little. It felt weird at first, but after awhile I could have sworn I’d heard you respond. I was almost positive Roxas was looking over my shoulder when I wrote to him.”

Lea’s heart was warmed by the memories, but ached at the reminder of Kairi’s fate.  He begged to be allowed to re-enter the Realm of Darkness to get her back, but Sora insisted on going alone, forbidding anyone from following him.  Neither he nor Kairi had been heard from ever since.

“One day… she wanted to talk about Roxas and Naminé.  She was feeling guilty and troubled about how ‘wrong’ it was that they were trapped inside other people’s hearts.  She felt terrible, stealing Naminé’s feelings and experiences and memories and holding them all captive in her heart, unwilling as she was.  And I got to thinking about how she worded that… ‘trapped.’ I started to realize then that you were also ‘trapped.’ I knew you had a piece of Xehanort in you, and I knew that because of him, your feelings and experiences were stolen away, just like Roxas and Naminé’s.  You might not have been entirely innocent, but I couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that you were a victim, too. Xehanort’s victim.”

Isa felt his eyes welling up yet again, and he clenched his jaw as he fought back the tears.  He wanted to hear the rest of what Lea had to say and refused to interrupt him.

“That was the same day she asked me why I wouldn’t take off the coat.  I gave her a lame excuse, but in my head I was starting to really understand why I was hesitating.  ‘Trapped.’ You, Isa, were trapped inside Saïx. You were trapped by that same oppressive coat. If I took it off, it would be casting off our friendship, throwing away our memories, allowing you to disappear completely from my life and forgetting about you just like Xion.  I couldn’t let that happen. That was the day I decided to rescue you. That was the day I forgave you. I abandoned you once. I wasn’t about to leave you behind again.”

Isa couldn’t stand another word of it.  He threw his arms around Lea’s shoulders and lost it right then and there.  He was so touched by Lea’s story that he couldn’t think of anything to say in response.  He buried his face in Lea’s shirt and cried silently, hoping it would be enough to convey what he was feeling.  Lea held him for a long while, joining him in his soft weeping. He never had the chance to tell Kairi how helpful she was, and now he deeply regretted that he never would.  He wished Kairi could have known Isa, rather than just hearing about him through stories told by an old friend. He would have given anything just to be able to thank her.

By the time the sun had reached its apex in the sky, their crying had subsided once more.  Lea began to wonder if anyone at the castle was worried about them, forgetting that they were grown men now and were under no obligation to inform anyone of their whereabouts.  Isa finally let go of Lea, wiping his face and sniffling with a sheepish grin. “What irony… That I should be afflicted by that for which I used to ridicule you. It must be satisfying to see how the tables have turned.”

Lea dropped his eyes, sensitive to the subject.  Isa used to make fun of Lea for crying, from their childhood onward.  It was clear that the emotional display made Isa uncomfortable, though Lea never understood why.  As Nobodies, they were told that they were incapable of crying, but Lea cried all the time, heart or no heart.  At least, he did until Isa put those marks on his face…

Lea shook his head with a soft expression.  “No, Isa. It’s satisfying, but not for the reason you think.  I’m happy that you are finally experiencing the full range of human emotion.  You’re feeling it, acknowledging it, and accepting it. You’re re-learning one of the most important aspects of humanity, reflecting on the paths you’ve taken, and embarking on a new journey of self-discovery.  That’s why it’s satisfying. Not because you’re suffering.”

Isa laughed before he could stop himself.  “Wow, Lea, where did all that come from?”

Lea scoffed with frustration.  “Does no one think I have the capacity to be deep?”

Isa grinned, playfully nudging him on the shoulder.  “I didn’t say that. I just don’t hear you speak so eloquently all that often.”

Lea smiled back at him, relieved to have the mood lightened if only for a moment.  “I guess I’ve been talking to Master Ansem a lot. He’s been really helpful with the adjustment.  You ought to have a conversation or two with him.”

Guilt tugged at Isa when he thought of what had been done to Ansem the Wise.  They had no part in his banishment to the Realm of Darkness — like Ienzo, they were still just kids.  They had been told that Master Ansem lost his mind and abandoned them all. They were never told what had really happened to him, but Isa learned later from Xemnas what his fate really was.  It troubled him to think that they indirectly took part in such a heinous crime. “What would I say?”

“You don’t have to say anything.  You can just listen.”

It was high noon, and the sun’s rays beat down on their backs with a vengeance.  Always having rather sensitive skin, Isa chose to protect himself with long sleeves on most days, regardless of the weather.  The heat was beginning to wear him down, and he considered inviting Lea to return to the castle with him, but when he turned and saw how vibrant and animated his friend’s face looked, he couldn’t bring himself to drag him away.  He was content to withstand the boiling temperatures if it meant he could sit and gaze at Lea’s face for as long as he liked. He soon was struck with an idea, having remembered something Lea had mentioned earlier in their conversation.  “I bet the ice cream shop is open now.”

If it was even possible, Lea’s face lit up even more brightly.  He sprang to his feet with a wide grin, extending a hand for Isa.  “Race you there!”


	5. Violated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Chapter contains mild blood and vomiting. Not together though.

Isa struggled aggressively against the bonds of his oversized captors to no avail.  As strong as he was, he could not wrestle out of their powerful grasp. Aeleus and Dilan dragged him by the arms into the Round Room, forcing him to face his Superior and answer for his troublemaking once again.  Squinting into the blinding light of the pure white ceiling, Isa stared up at the figure casually leaning in the tallest throne in the room. Xemnas looked down upon him with his haunting smile, as if looking forward to this encounter.

_“Your actions have elevated you beyond the level of a mere nuisance.  You are starting to become more trouble than you are worth. I should turn you into a Dusk and be done with you once and for all.”_

Isa said nothing, staring daggers into the leader’s eyes.  It would be a privilege to be turned into a Dusk, rather than be compelled to obey this man for one more second.  But, as he looked up at the seats around him, each occupied by an acquaintance in a black cloak, he caught a glimpse of Lea.  The terror etched on his face would go on to haunt Isa for as long as he lived. He had to stay and protect his friend from these monsters, no matter the cost.

_“But, I am a patient man, and I am willing to show you mercy.  After all, you are only a child…”_

Unwilling to accept his feigned clemency, Isa spit at the ground in Xemnas’ direction, affording his Superior nothing more than the contempt he deserved.  Gasps were heard throughout the room, echoing off the empty walls. Unflinching, Xemnas vanished, and in an instant had rematerialised directly in front of Isa.  The Superior towered over him, his imposing form standing at least a foot above the young rebel. With a flash of pity in his eyes, he summoned his weapon of choice, two energy beams he called “Ethereal Blades.”  Isa’s eyes widened when he realized what was about to happen.

_“As your flesh bears the sigil, so your name shall be known as that… of a recusant.”_

There was a bright flash of light as Xemnas dragged the blades across Isa’s face, blinding him instantly.  The pain was indescribable, sending him to his knees with an agonized shout. The only real mercy in the act was that it was quick.

_“Isa!!”_

Lea’s voice crying out his name in anguish rang loudly in his ears.  Everything was dark, and he wondered if he’d ever look upon his best friend’s face again.  He could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from his flesh, and could hear it dripping onto the floor beneath him.

_“Let this serve as a warning to all who would stand in our way.  The punishment for running astray is to be placed on a leash. The punishment for treason… is far worse.”_

The room was silent.  Isa couldn’t even hear his own breathing.  His forehead pounded with the stinging pain, and he began to feel nauseous.

_“But let us not look on this event with sadness or fear.  Young Saïx has publicly declared his devotion to the Organization’s cause.  He has chosen this sacrifice so that he may regain the favor of his Superior, and earn the gift promised to us all by Kingdom Hearts.”_

Light began to slowly overtake the darkness as Isa’s eyesight gradually returned.  He looked around but could only see fuzzy outlines and dull hues. Lifting his head made him dizzy.  He let it hang off his shoulders, staring at the floor in defeat.

_“Your dedication is most admirable.  You will one day be rewarded, my son.  Let us all celebrate the child’s newfound clarity…”_

Isa could hear the faint sound of apprehensive applause.  His vision finally cleared enough for him to make out more than just shapes and colors.  He could see an enormous and growing pool of blood below him. Hoping to get a look at the damage, he peered into the reflective surface of the crimson puddle, wary about what he might see.  Staring back at him was own his face, covered in blood flowing from a ghastly X-shaped wound between his eyes.

Lamenting the grisly sight, he was about to smear the puddle away so he wouldn’t be tormented by the image any longer when he noticed something else.  His eyes were not green anymore. With a shuddering gasp, he gaped in horror at his now sinister-looking yellow eyes. He blinked several times, hoping he was seeing things, or that perhaps his vision was affected by the injury, but his reflection never changed.

He lifted his head to face the man who was responsible for this.  Xemnas was beaming at him with that same haunting smile again. Isa would have lunged at him and taken him out then and there, were he not so weakened by the punishment.  He could hear Lea’s voice again, calling his name through sobs of despair. In shame, Isa did not look at him, instead returning his gaze to the pool of blood, expecting to see his pitiful reflection once again.  There was the same pale skin, the same yellow eyes, the same pointed ears, all surrounded by a disorderly collection of bold red hair, standing up in all directions.

Wait, red hair?  Isa didn’t have red hair…

The image in the puddle continued to distort, the facial features blending together with the streaks of blood, barely recognizable.

In an instant, the room fell to deafening silence, and the mirrored figure jolted into focus.  All breath left Isa’s body.

It wasn’t his face.

It was Lea’s.

* * *

Isa’s eyes sprang open, his chest heaving with his frantic wheezing.  His skin was drenched with sweat, and his forehead still stung, as if the wound were fresh again.  He was nauseous. Dangerously so. Certain he was about to be sick, he climbed out of bed and quickly shut himself in the bathroom, praying he hadn’t awakened Lea.  He leaned over the sink, breathing through his nose, trying to force the nausea away. He cautiously looked in the mirror, hoping he would just see his own reflection, confirming that he was awake.  He saw blue hair, putting him at ease almost instantly. His ears were rounded, as they should be. His eyes were green. The scar was just a scar, and there was no more blood on his face. He was able to slow his breathing the longer he stared at his mirror image.

_You poor, miserable abomination… How can you not see that your efforts to resist me are futile?_

He blinked.  For a split second, he thought he saw his own eyes flash a bright yellow.  The scar seemed to develop jagged edges as it spread over his skin in all four directions, threatening to overtake his entire face.  The sudden fright did him in, and he rushed to the toilet bowl and vomited forcefully. He could swear he heard Xemnas’ laughter, Lea’s weeping, and the thunderous applause of his former comrades as he lay bleeding on the floor in front of them.

_You are a most worthy vessel… Do you not want a heart?  Am I not being most generous in giving you a portion of mine?  You should be grateful…_

The retching continued without pause.  Isa felt as though he were suffocating, being choked, drowning… He longed to breathe again, but the violent spasms in his abdomen forbade it.  The voice of Xemnas echoed in his mind, tormenting him as he lay trembling over the pool of his own sick, trying and failing to shut out the oppressive sound of his former Superior’s taunts.

_Fool… Wretch…_

_A creature like you was never meant to exist…_

_You were a mistake… A tragedy…_

_I never expected you to survive…_

_I pity you, Recusant…_

Isa clasped his hands over his ears, curling up on the floor and crying at the hopelessness of it all.  The tears running down his face were warm like the blood was, and the sound of them dripping onto the tiles was the same.  His pitiful sobs were like Lea’s had been, heavy with despair. Xemnas’ body and heart may have disappeared for good, but he still managed to live on in Isa’s thoughts and dreams.  Even in death, Isa’s former Superior haunted him like a demon that he couldn’t cast out.

After what must have been nearly an hour of getting intimately acquainted with the bathroom floor, Isa dared to relax, assuming he must have been finished.  Unfortunately, he was wrong, and his stomach lurched again. He closed his eyes, accepting the inevitable, but unwilling to watch. Time may as well have ceased entirely as he waited for it all to stop.  Just when he was beginning to think it would never end, he heard a knock at the door.

“Isa?  Isa, what’s wrong?  Are you alright?”

Isa would have liked to answer him.  He would have said anything to make Lea go away, but every time he opened his mouth, he retched again.  He leaned on the toilet’s cold rim, coughing and sputtering, astounded by the volume his empty stomach had managed to expel.  He wondered just where it all could be coming from.

“Isa, I’m coming in.  Hope you’re decent.”

The door opened and Lea entered, gasping at the sight.  Before Isa could protest, Lea rushed to him with a worried look, kneeling down beside him and laying a hand across his forehead.

“Isa, what’s the matter?  Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick, Lea…”

“Well, is it something you ate?”

“You know very well that I haven’t been eating at all.”

The thought of eating was too much.  The nausea gripped him again and he didn’t resist.  Lea swept his hair out of the way and gently stroked his back until there was a break.  His entire face and bare torso were covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Let me get you some water.  I’ll be right back.”

“Lea, stop.  I’m alright.”

“It’s water.  It won’t hurt you.”

Lea was stubborn and Isa was far too weak to argue with him now.  He let himself fall back against the wall, finally able to breathe normally.  The trauma from the nightmare hadn’t faded even a little. The pain and fear were still fresh and clear in his mind, refusing to disappear like any other dream imagery.  Dwelling on those thoughts brought the nausea back with a vengeance and he barely managed to lean back over the bowl before his stomach clenched violently again. He began to worry that all of his insides would be squeezed out of him if this went on for much longer.

Lea hurried back to him with a glass of water, once again pulling his hair off of his face.  Isa came to appreciate his company, taking comfort in the feeling of his friend’s hand on his back and the sound of his quietly whispering voice.  When the retching ceased, he closed the lid and prayed it wouldn’t come back. For several minutes he sat in silence, breathing through his nose and letting his eyelids fall.  Lea was patient, not saying a word until Isa had managed to settle himself back into a more relaxed state.

“Isa… talk to me.  Please, tell me what happened.”

Isa braved an audible swallow, nearly triggering another attack.  He fought off the urge to vomit and looked upon Lea’s deeply worried face.

“Do you remember the day I got this?”

Isa was running his fingertips along the X-shaped scar over the bridge of his nose.  Lea paused, hesitating to respond. He remembered quite well, and it was a disturbing memory he hoped he’d never have to recall.  “Yes, I remember.”

“You were right, Lea… this was a punishment.”

Lea winced as the images flashed across his eyes.  He had begged Xemnas to punish him instead, but their leader already knew the dynamic between the two of them and was well aware that Isa was the one with the ideas.  He recalled sitting on the edge of his seat, fighting back tears as the Superior drew his weapon. He couldn’t bear to watch. He tried to look away, to close his eyes, but it was so quick.  Every face in the room was etched with terror and repulsion, applauding at Xemnas’ command with pity and sorrow in their eyes. Isa was left on the floor alone, and Lea tried to lift him up, but he wouldn’t budge, refusing even to look at him.

“So… you’ve started to remember.”

“Yes… but there was more to it than just keeping me in line.  The day Xemnas carved the sigil into my face… that was the day Xehanort entered my body.”

After several minutes of coaxing Isa out of the Room Where Nothing Gathers, Lea was able to guide him back to his room.  Towel after towel was stained red with his blood. He insisted Isa stop letting his head droop or the bleeding would never cease, but Isa still refused to lift his face.  It was hours before the blood stopped flowing and Isa finally looked Lea in the eyes. But they weren’t Isa’s eyes at all.

“You were never the same after that day.  I knew Xemnas had done something to you, but at the time I didn’t know what.  I understood later…”

“Xemnas had a theory, and being strong-willed as I was, I made the perfect test subject.  You noticed both Braig and I have been disfigured?”

“I thought Braig was injured in battle years ago…”

“He was.  But it wasn’t an accident.  That injury was necessary to grant Xehanort entry into his heart.  He had to break us, so he started by having Braig injured in a battle with a powerful darkness.  It wasn’t enough. Braig shared his heart with Xehanort, making him his equal. That’s why he always referred to himself as ‘half-Xehanort.’  Xehanort couldn’t control him unless he could wipe him clean, removing all traces of Braig from his own body and commandeering it himself. So, Xehanort went back to the drawing board, and a few years later, he came up with the Recusant’s Sigil.  When he turned us all, he renamed us in order to mark us with that sigil. He even did it to his own Nobody. Still, it wasn’t enough. He needed blank slates, with no identity of their own, and there I was, a rebellious youth, causing trouble, fighting back, raising hell.  Xemnas knew I would be a perfect vessel for him. Strong enough to withstand the experiment, weak enough to submit to his will. He tore this wretched symbol into my flesh, and for a long while, he thought he’d actually done it. I was everything he ever wanted. Empty. Hollow.  Broken.”

After the incident, Isa didn’t speak for three weeks.  Lea remembered the times he’d go to visit him in his room, only to find him curled up on the floor, motionless, catatonic.  He didn’t eat or sleep, no matter how Lea insisted. He started spending more and more time in Addled Impasse, a large room on an upper floor of the Castle That Never Was with enormous, wide windows lining one of its walls.  He would stand in front of those windows and stare at the moon for hours at a time, unblinking and silent. Lea tried everything to get him to respond, fearing that he’d never hear his best friend’s voice again.

There was one night, weeks after the punishment, when Lea couldn’t take it anymore.  He grabbed Isa by the shoulders, forcing his friend to turn and face him once and for all.  He shouted his name, pleading with Isa to acknowledge him, just to let him know that he could hear Lea’s call.  For several seconds, Isa only stared at him with vacant, lifeless eyes. With tears streaming down his face, Lea begged his best friend to speak to him.  When Isa finally opened his mouth to grant Lea his most desperate wish, he quickly regretted ever asking.

_My name is not Isa.  You will call me Saïx._

“And yet, it _still_ wasn’t enough.  I was still in there, but I was stifled just enough to let Xehanort believe he had drained the Isa out of me entirely.  I suited his needs perfectly at the time. He needed someone he knew could be controlled, and that someone was me.”

_Crying is weak, Number VIII.  You haven’t the capacity to feel true sorrow._

In his grief, Lea wept for days.  Isa only referred to him as ‘Axel’ or ‘Number VIII.’  He no longer responded to his human name at all. His empty eyes no longer reflected the thoughtful man who used to live behind them.  His once expressive voice had deepened to a sinister whisper. A disturbing, ominous glare froze onto his face like a mask of pure ice.  His once warm skin had grown cold and pale like a corpse, stretched thinly over his now gaunt frame. Lea couldn’t escape the pain of his despair.  His best friend was lost, and he did not know this man who now stood in his place.

“I did everything I could to convince him that it had worked.  I knew that if he found out he had failed again, he would go back to the drawing board, and at some point he would come after you… He already knew of my attachment to you, and he used that vulnerability against me on more occasions than I can count.  It was the perfect leverage. Even later on, as I pushed you away and tried to hate you so much that I finally started to believe it, he knew I still cared for you. No matter how deep I buried it, he found my weakness, and he took full advantage of it.”

Isa started to come back in little bits and pieces as the months drew on.  Lea wanted to be elated to see the return of his best friend, but the trauma of losing him stuck in his chest like a venomous thorn, and the burgeoning replacement Isa was a dark facsimile of the real Isa that he used to know.  The damage to their relationship had been done, and even as they tried to rekindle what they’d had before, it was never the same as it used to be. They grew apart, and resentment blossomed in each of them. Lea yearned for Isa, clinging desperately to the only familiar face he ever saw, but now that face was unrecognizable.  It was over. He could only watch as their relationship slowly burned to ashes.

Lea hadn’t realized he’d been crying until Isa reached over and wiped the tears from his cheeks.  He frantically tried to regain his composure for Isa’s sake, rubbing his eyes and sniffling as he listened to his friend’s story.  Isa’s voice shook as he continued his explanation, absentmindedly rubbing his abdomen with a pained grimace.

“He lived inside me for so long… I could feel his eyes on me everywhere I went… his whispering followed me into my nightmares… I longed for death, just to be rid of him…”

His diligent efforts to contain his nausea began to falter, and soon he was hanging over the toilet again, covering his ears and blocking out the horrific sound of his own retching.  His tired muscles ached from the spasming and his throat burned. He longed to catch his breath, only to nearly choke every time he tried. Lea was mercifully patient, never showing even the tiniest glimmer of repulsion as he dutifully slid his fingers over Isa’s back.  His mind was filled with questions, but he set them aside for now, unwilling to interrupt Isa’s monologue. Isa’s vomiting finally paused and he slumped back against the wall, panting and wiping his mouth. Sweat trickled down his temples, and Lea gently brushed it away for him.  After a few moments, he wrapped up his explanation.

“Even now, he torments me… The images he fabricates… images of you suffering the same fate… they haunt me to this day.”

“That’s why you’re in here…”

“I barely got here in time.  It was so real, I could still feel it burning even after I awoke.  I looked in the mirror and…”

“But you know it wasn’t real.  It’s alright now. He’s long gone and he isn’t coming back.”

Isa smiled weakly at him, trembling with dehydration.  He longed to get up from the floor, but every movement brought the nausea right back to full capacity.  Wincing, he stayed in place, wondering if he ought to just sleep here for the night. Lea handed him the glass of water, insisting that he take it, but Isa couldn’t stand the thought of putting anything in his stomach while he felt this sickly.

“Isa, you need to drink it.  You’ll feel better if you do.”

“It’s going to end up right in there with everything else I never ate.”

“It might, or it might not.  At least you’ll have tried.”

Isa was in no condition to fight him on this.  Lea watched him with a stern expression until he caved and sipped the water as was demanded of him.  To his relief, it didn’t aggravate the nausea at all. He continued to drink at a slow pace with Lea nudging him every time he paused for too long.  The more he emptied the glass, the less ill and weak he felt. At this rate, perhaps he could soon return to bed.

He noticed Lea had grown less attentive as the minutes dragged by.  He caught his friend staring blankly at the floor, appearing to have something troubling on his mind.

“Lea, what’s the matter?”

“What?  Oh, it’s nothing.  I’m just tired.”

“Ah, okay.  It’s a good thing I’m stupid enough to believe you.  Come on, Lea, tell me.”

Lea smirked at him, appreciating his efforts to make him feel better even in such a weakened state himself.  He had been dwelling on the painful memories brought up by Isa’s story, and the questions he had set aside burned in his mind, longing to be asked.  Now that he had the chance to ask them, Lea felt himself hesitating.

“Lea, whatever it is—”

“Was it all an act?”

“What do you mean?”

“Those first few weeks… after the incident, when you were all cold and empty.  Were you just pretending… to protect me?”

Isa could see clearly how he had wounded Lea.  Guilt began to fester inside him again, and he felt the harrowing presence of nausea returning to him.  “No, Lea. I wasn’t pretending. I don’t remember those first few weeks after Xemnas punished me. It took awhile for me to start breaking through the shell.”

Lea could feel the sting of tears welling in his eyes again.  He would have understood if Isa had decided to feign amnesia and pretend he’d been wiped clean in the interest of protecting Lea from Xemnas’ wrath.  He could even find it in himself to forgive him for such a cruel charade. But the agonizing memories of that stranger who occupied Isa’s body were unbearable, stabbing at Lea from inside his own chest.  If he had still had a heart in those days, Isa would have surely broken it, but Lea was so relieved to hear that, at the very least, the injury wasn’t intentional.

Isa reached for his friend, grasping Lea’s shoulder with a reassuring look in his eyes.  “Lea, the last thing I remember is you bandaging my face. I could barely see you. But I remember… you were crying.  I wished I could have consoled you… but I couldn’t speak. It was like trying to scream in a nightmare, where you open your mouth but no sound comes out…”

Lea closed his eyes as the tears fell down his cheeks again.  Isa didn’t need to know anything more about those first few weeks.  He was feeling guilty enough, and Lea was unwilling to heap any more burden on his shoulders.  As he choked back his emotions, he felt Isa take his hand, gently grasping his fingers and refusing to let go.  Lea smiled at him, deciding for now that it was time to put these memories out of his mind and leave them in the past where they belonged.

“Are you feeling better, Isa?  Think you can go back to sleep?”

“What time is it?”

“Who cares?  Let’s just sleep.”

Lea rose from the floor and slowly helped Isa lift himself to his feet.  The color had returned to his face and his body no longer shivered. Relieved to see that he was in the clear, Lea headed for the door back into the bedroom.  Isa gave his fingers a final squeeze before letting his hand go, lagging behind for a moment.

“You go on, I’ll catch up to you.”

“Can’t guarantee I’ll still be awake.”

Isa chuckled, once again melting Lea with his smile.  “Then, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Isa closed the door behind him once Lea had gone.  He had only intended to clean up after himself and wash the awful taste from his mouth, but when he’d finished, he couldn’t help but look into the mirror again.  He blinked several times, just to ensure his reflection wouldn’t change. He sighed with relief when after ten times, it hadn’t. He stared into his own eyes for a few minutes, daring them to turn yellow again.  They didn’t. He ran his fingers over his ears, expecting to feel the sickening point they used to have. They were the same round ears he was born with. He combed the tangles out of his hair, searching for even one strand of red among the sea of blue.  He found none. His features were just as they should be. He was still looking at his own face, damaged as it was, and for now, that was enough. He could join Lea in restful sleep, knowing that the bed would be occupied by none other than the two of them.


	6. The Lone Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a workout session that ends about as well as any I've ever had, Isa makes a new friend, then has a good talk with Master Ansem.

_ This is pitiful.  When did I ever get this out of shape? _

It must have been the sixth time Isa had to stop and rest, having become so out of breath that he simply couldn’t take another step.  He was glad he’d chosen to try running so late at night, ensuring that no one would see him. Outside the town, beyond the grassy field where he and Lea used to play and watch the sky, there was a dense forest, and beyond that, a lake.  Several paths had been cut through the forest and around the lake by hikers, travelers, and explorers alike. Isa chose to take a few laps around these paths, breathing in the scent of healthy foliage. The landscape hadn’t changed much since his childhood — the trees were taller but just as green.  The lake seemed smaller, but was chilly and clear as it always was. The sky was the same. The moon cast a beautiful reflection onto the still water, and Isa couldn’t help but pause to admire it.

His heart pounded in his aching chest, the brisk air burning in his lungs as he tried to force himself to run farther.  It was no use. He stopped again, collapsing onto the grass, pathetically huffing and wheezing as the sweat poured down his face and chest.  The muscles in his legs cramped up and his pulse drummed as far as his temples. He couldn’t understand what had happened to him. He was an active child and an athletic teen, and he had remained reasonably fit in his first years as an adult in the Organization.  He was one of the more capable fighters and could always boast impressive speed and endurance in addition to his brute strength. Running had once been so relaxing to him. He closed his eyes, defeated, deciding that when he recovered, he would go back to the castle and pretend this never happened.  His athlete days were over.

He lost track of time as he lay on the grass, listening to the crickets singing to each other over the soft whisper of the evening breeze.  He opened his eyes and gazed at the moon again. He could no longer draw energy from it as he could when he was Saïx, but he still felt invigorated whenever he sat in the glow of its beams.  He thought for awhile about his sudden loss of strength and vitality, wondering just how much of his power could have simply been attributed to Xehanort’s influence. Any time he felt outmatched in battle, he merely needed to connect with the moon and allow himself to be overtaken by the berserk state of mind that Xemnas had inflicted on him.  Perhaps he never was all that strong at all — he just had an especially mighty weapon at the time, and now he could no longer use it.

Revitalized at last, Isa rose to his feet and headed back to the castle at a moderate pace.  The path through the forest was windy and narrow in some places, and he struggled to see in the darkness of the thick woods.  As he made the difficult trek through the trees, he got the distinct feeling that he was not alone. He froze, listening intently.  There was only silence. He resumed walking and once again was certain he could hear more than just his own footsteps. He paused a second time, waiting for whatever presence was tailing him to reveal itself.

He grew nervous as he pressed onward, convinced that someone or something was in the forest with him, but unable to see it.  He was aware of the native wildlife, and usually the animals left the humans alone. However, while in their territory in the dead of night, Isa felt slightly less safe than he would have otherwise.  He found himself wondering if he could still summon his claymore, but was apprehensive about trying it in such a tight space. He decided to chance it, and to his absolute shock, the claymore came to him.  Feeling a little more sure of himself, he continued along the path toward the edge of the forest. He had nearly made it out when he saw a reflective pair of eyes staring at him.

Isa brandished his weapon, prepared to strike.  The creature approached him slowly, and he felt his heart stop with a heavy thud.  Once it was close enough, he could see that it was a wolf. He froze, stunned by the sight.  He had not once heard of wolves inhabiting this wood. He wondered if perhaps it was just a large dog that had gotten lost, but as it circled around Isa, inspecting him from a distance, there was no mistaking that it was indeed a wolf.  Isa’s stomach turned when the wolf inched ever closer to him, reaching out to sniff his clothes. He held his breath and didn’t move a muscle as the animal scanned him with its nose. Shockingly, the wolf then backed off a few feet and sat down, staring at him again.

Unsure of how else he would make it out of the forest without the animal noticing him, Isa took a very slow step along his path toward the exit.  The wolf did not stir. He took another step and still the wolf showed no interest. Conceding that perhaps the creature meant him no harm, he dismissed his weapon and proceeded to leave the forest, returning to the clearing just outside the boundaries of town.  He climbed the hill that he and Lea had grown so fond of and lounged on the grass for a while to calm himself down after such a harrowing ordeal.

Watching the moon as it dragged lazily across the sky, Isa relaxed into the soft ground, indulging in nostalgia for a few moments.  He recalled many a warm day where he and Lea would swim in the lake together, then take turns rolling down this hill to dry off in the grass.  He closed his eyes and let the breeze blow through his sweat-drenched hair. Lea would likely be wondering where he was now and Isa supposed he ought to be heading back.  It was getting late and he hadn’t intended to be out nearly this long. Just as he prepared to stand, he heard footsteps in the grass approaching him. When he opened his eyes, he nearly fell over with fright.  The wolf had followed him.

Isa remained still as stone, watching the animal as it cautiously stepped up the hill directly toward him.  He couldn’t imagine why it had followed him here or what it wanted. He forced himself to remain calm, certain that animals could sense anxiety in humans.  The wolf was now only a few feet from him and continued its casual meandering in his direction. Once it had reached him, to Isa’s disbelief, it laid itself down on the grass and curled up beside him, resting its chin over Isa’s leg.  Its eyes looked longingly at Isa’s face and its tail wagged enthusiastically. Dumbfounded by how tame this supposedly wild animal was, Isa apprehensively reached out and gently stroked the fur over its head and neck. The animal closed its eyes, clearly enjoying the attention.  Isa had nearly forgotten his fondness for canines — he’d had a dog as a child, and he loved his furry companion like it was a sibling. Some time after his mother died, the dog ran away, and Isa recalled how devastated he’d been to have lost his beloved pet. Shortly after that, he met Lea.

Isa sat for a long while letting the wolf rest beside him, unwilling to wake it in his effort to return to the castle.  Its body was soft and warm, rising and falling steadily with its sleepy breaths. Isa was tempted to lie down and fall asleep himself, but he knew that he couldn’t stay out here forever, as Lea would likely be worried sick over him.  With great reluctance, and one last friendly pat on the head for his silent companion, he carefully lifted himself to his feet to head back. The wolf stirred, watching him as he walked away, but did not follow him. Isa couldn’t help but notice how sad the animal looked.  When he had reached the gates of town, he turned back one last time to see that the wolf was gone.

The streets were bare, and the lights were dim.  It seemed most everyone in Radiant Garden had gone to sleep.  Isa found the silence very peaceful as he roamed along the brick roads until he had finally reached the castle.  He very quietly closed the tall double doors behind him and tread carefully over the marble floors to the staircase.  As he made his ascent, he couldn’t help but notice the flickering light coming from the library. When he approached the doorway to investigate, he found Master Ansem, quietly reading by soft candlelight with a cup of tea on the table beside him.  The Master noticed Isa watching and smiled warmly at him.

“Ah, Isa.  You’re up late.  Won’t you come in?”

Isa nodded silently and entered the room, seating himself hesitantly on the chair beside Ansem the Wise.  The cushion was soft, and the candlelight was soothing, making this the perfect environment for reading alone.  He hoped he wasn’t intruding. “Thank you, Master Ansem.”

“May I offer you some tea?”

“Thank you, sir, but I’m alright.”

“I’ve a spare cup if you change your mind.”

Master Ansem took a sip of his own tea before casually turning a page in his book.  “So, Isa, what has you up at this late hour?”

Isa’s cheeks reddened as he explained himself.  “I, uh… I was out for a run. Getting some exercise…”

“Ah yes, of course, that athletic streak is still in you, eh?”  Master Ansem smiled as he set his book aside and turned to fully engage Isa.  “So, how did it go?”

Isa cleared his throat uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck.  “I’m afraid it did not go well, sir. I’m in terrible shape.”

“Out of practice, eh?  Well, no matter. You’re young and in good health.  You can easily restore your physical fitness.”

“Yes, sir.  That is my goal, sir.  I… had hoped to perhaps become one of your castle guards.”

Isa looked sheepishly at the ground as he admitted his aspiration to him.  Master Ansem responded with kind curiosity, easing Isa’s anxieties quite effortlessly.  “Is that so? Well, Isa, you’re more than qualified. I don’t demand any physical specifications for my guards.  Aeleus and Dilan are simply fitness enthusiasts.”

“Yes, sir.  But one must be strong in order to be your protector.”

Master Ansem took another sip of his tea as he watched the shadows cast by the flickering candle dance over the bookshelves lining the walls.  “I suppose you’re right. But I have much confidence in you, Isa. To face your own demons is to battle with your most powerful opponent. Your strength is formidable, and you have the capacity to do great things in your lifetime.”

Isa’s face flushed even further.  “Thank you, Master Ansem. I appreciate your having faith in me.”

Ansem smiled at him before quietly pouring more tea into his cup.  Despite Isa’s previous refusal, he poured a second cup and handed it to him, which Isa took graciously.  He had always liked tea, and could remember many days in the Organization when a cup of tea would be his only meal.  They sat in peaceful silence for several minutes, sipping their tea and enjoying each others’ company.

“Isa, I regret that we have not had much chance to talk.  How have you been? How is your recovery going?”

Isa paused, unsure how he should answer him at first.  After some thought, he constructed as honest an answer as he could and hoped it would make sense to the man.  “It has not been without its challenges, but I have been very privileged to have such a supportive team of friends to guide me.”

Ansem gave him a pleasant nod.  “Yes, Lea has been most enthusiastic in his duty to assist you in your time of need.  One can see how much he truly cares for you.”

Isa felt his face and neck heating up.  He knew this to be true already, but to hear that Lea’s affection was even noticed by others made it seem more real, rather than an idle fantasy that Isa had dreamt up out of wishful thinking.

“Yes, sir.  I am very grateful to him.”  Isa felt his mouth begin curling into a smile as he thought of Lea.  Master Ansem took notice of how Isa’s face lit up, his heart warmed by the sight of the young Isa looking so cheerful.  Isa continued his gracious musings, repeating the same words he’d said so many times before but still feeling like they were inadequate.  “Everyone has been so kind to me. So understanding. I feel very lucky to not only have gotten another chance at life, but a chance at a  _ normal _ life.  A  _ good _ life.  I could just as easily have come back alone and with nothing, waking up to find that I had transcended the grave for a second time, only to discover that I no longer had any friends waiting for me on the other side.”

“That’s quite right, Isa.  Forgiveness is a powerful thing.  At the very least, it puts two souls at ease and paves the way for a brighter, happier future.  You’ll find that forgiveness possesses rather impressive healing properties.”

Isa dropped his head, examining the intricate pattern of the area rug beneath them.  “But… do I deserve such a thing?”

“I would like to believe that everyone is worthy of forgiveness, as long as they ask for it.  There isn’t a man in any world who has committed no mistakes. Yours and mine were grievous, yes… but the powers that be saw fit to give us each another chance to atone.”

Isa would have protested, but his throat began to feel tight again.  Tension spread through his body as guilt began to creep up on him. His remorse followed him around like a shadow, startling him by showing itself when he least expected it, attached so permanently to him that he could not escape it.  Ansem, observing the mounting emotional torment in the young man, went on to share his own shameful transgressions in the hopes that he could relieve some of Isa’s internal suffering.

“When my apprentices betrayed me and banished me to the realm of darkness, all I could think of was revenge.  So blinded was I by my obsessive rage that I failed to see through my own prejudices that most of my targets were victims as well.”  Master Ansem laid down his cup and clasped his hands in front of him, speaking with regret in his voice and sadness in his eyes. “I brought about the ruin of countless lives in my effort to take down the Organization.  Roxas, Xion, Naminé, even Sora and Riku… all became mere pawns in my plot to eliminate Xehanort and his followers. I spared no thought for their unwilling sacrifices, and that is my greatest sin.”

Isa listened patiently to his confession, his heart heavy with empathy.  He, too, had lashed out in anger, only to miss his target entirely. At the very least, Ansem’s goals were noble, compared to Isa’s.  “But, sir… eradicating Xehanort was necessary to restore peace to the worlds. He was bent on the destruction of the entire realm of light.”

“Oh yes, Xehanort still needed to be stopped.  But, I cared not for the greater good. I cared only for my own petty vengeance.  In my case, the ends did not justify the means.”

Isa pondered his words in silence for a long while, drawing comparisons to his own actions.  He had joined the Organization in search of some figment of his imagination — a test subject that he was now certain had never existed, an idea planted into his and Lea’s heads to lure them into Xehanort’s grasp.  His cause was just then, but the more heinous his crimes became, the more he found he had lost sight of that original goal altogether. After awhile, he was just bitter and angry, living without purpose and trying to make everyone he encountered as miserable as he was.  His mind settled on Lea again. How many times had he sacrificed Lea for his own selfish gain? How many times had he hurt his best friend to further his objectives, noble or otherwise? Was it ever worth it?

“Sir, I have committed unspeakable atrocities.  I destroyed everything I touched and left tragedy in my wake.  I was Xehanort’s right hand… forgiveness is powerful, but surely it has its limits.”

“Perhaps it does.  But have you reached those limits yet?  Has anyone withheld forgiveness from you, Isa?”

Isa hesitated.  “No,” he admitted.  “Not exactly. I spoke with Roxas… If I haven’t misunderstood him, I believe he just needs time.”

“That’s understandable,” Ansem agreed.  “Sometimes forgiveness isn’t granted instantly.”

“Yes.  He said that I will have to earn it.”  Isa glanced out the window, thinking back on the night where he sat by the fountain beside Roxas, watching those same stars.  “But… he also said that I am a person, and that people deserve the chance to set things right.”

Ansem leaned back in his chair, a look of awe on his face.  “That child is remarkably wise.”

Isa chuckled, recalling that he had said the same thing at the time.  “Roxas is extraordinary. He has been so patient, so merciful…”

“He has a spark in him,” Ansem reminded him.  “He gets angry when it’s warranted. I think you and I have both been on the receiving end of Roxas’ rage, and we both deserved it at the time.”

Isa cringed as he remembered.  The first time, he’d been caught off-guard, woefully unprepared for the sudden surge of raw strength Roxas possessed when he was angry enough.  The second time, he had expected and even welcomed Roxas’ punishment. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. He could almost feel a phantom twinge in his ribs as he recalled standing there in the sand, accepting the boy’s blows, silently begging him to make it quick.  The boiling fury in the child’s eyes pierced through his body and into his soul, as if to specifically remind him that this beating was too good for him.

“But you’re right.  Roxas is tremendously understanding.  You remember, Isa, that Roxas comes from Sora.  And Sora could see the good in anybody.”

It was easy to forget Roxas’ origins.  The boy went out of his way to distance himself from his other, insisting that he was his own person and refusing to have his identity swallowed by someone else.  But Master Ansem had a fantastic point. He still carried at least a small piece of Sora in him, and that piece included Sora’s optimism and compassion.

Ansem leaned in toward Isa with a raised eyebrow.  “I think Roxas’ kindness has rubbed off on Lea. After all, we both injured him deeply, yet he was quick to forgive us both.”

It took Isa a moment to figure out how Master Ansem could possibly have wronged Lea, but he soon remembered that Master Ansem was the man who had taken Roxas away from him.  Master Ansem kidnapped Roxas, wiped his memories, trapped him in a simulation, then effectively destroyed him. It was a wonder Roxas forgave him, let alone Lea.

“No…” Isa replied thoughtfully.  “Lea was always like that.” Isa felt a warmth inside him as he recalled the conversation from the other day.  “Lea said that although it was difficult, he forgave me a long time ago, when I was still Saïx. It astounds me that he could find it in his heart to overlook my sins at a time like that, when I was still actively committing them.”

Ansem nodded in agreement.  “I have found that Lea has a light in him that no power in all the worlds could douse.  He shines brightly and passionately, no matter how dark things may seem.”

Isa couldn’t help but smile as he thought of Lea’s light.  The fire in him burned so hot that even the Organization couldn’t extinguish it, try as Xemnas did.  He was always fiercely determined in that way, desperate to find even the tiniest sliver of hope in the worst of times.

“Ah, Isa, I can see what he awakens in you.  He must be a very special presence in your life.”

“Yes, sir.”  Isa revealed as his face began to turn a shade of pink yet again.  “It’s a shame it took me this long to realize it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re still so young, and that you have all the time in the world.”

Ansem the Wise poured more tea into both cups, his eyes crinkling with a knowing smile.  There was a subtle jolliness to Master Ansem that made him such pleasant company. The man’s face was so cheerful that it was sure to brighten anyone’s day who had the privilege to spend time with him.  He was much like a grandfather in that way, doting upon all his apprentices with a deep familial affection, unconditionally loving each of them as purely as his own flesh and blood.

“So, Isa, who will be next?”

Isa had his answer right away, but stalled for time as he sipped his tea, sensitive to the topic.  “Xion, I believe. I must make amends with Xion. I anticipate it will be quite a challenge…”

“All apologies can be challenging.”

“True… but this one will be especially so.”  Isa winced as the memories trickled into the forefront of his mind.  “I was… particularly hostile toward Xion. I treated her as a lifeless object.  Some of the things I said were… vile. Savage. I don’t see how she could ever forgive such monstrous behavior.”

“You forget, Isa,” Master Ansem leaned in and lowered his voice.  “Xion also comes from Sora.”

Isa wanted desperately to believe the man, but Sora was human, and was a young boy.  Surely even he was capable of resentment and spite. “You are right, Master, but in this case, I believe it was too deep a sin.  A thousand apologies could never suffice.”

Ansem took a sip of his tea, raising his eyebrows with a soft grin.  “I think one will do.”

Isa had spent countless hours rehearsing what he might say to Xion in his mind.  None of the words he ever came up with seemed to adequately convey his remorse. Perhaps Master Ansem had a point, and it would be best to take a simpler route and just say what was necessary without all the added fluff and emotional filler.  Maybe it would be easier to just say that he was sorry and let those words speak for themselves.

They lounged there in silence, sipping tea and watching the candle’s flame die down until it had nearly burned away entirely.  Master Ansem never went back to his book, instead joining Isa in staring out the window, deep in thought. Isa’s eyelids soon began to feel heavy and he glanced around for a clock, only to find the room had grown too dark to see the time.  With a yawn, Master Ansem rose from his chair, collecting his things and preparing to retire for the night.

“Well, Isa, you’re quite welcome to stay as long as you like, but an old man like me needs his rest.  I’m afraid I’ll have to turn in for the evening.”

“I was feeling tired myself, sir.  I’ll see you in the morning. And thank you…”

Ansem beamed and patted Isa on the shoulder.  “You’ll make a fine castle guard, Isa. Once you’ve taken some time for yourself, the position will be there waiting for you.  There is no rush, my boy. Seize this opportunity to enjoy your new life.”

Isa bowed his head respectfully as Ansem the Wise turned to go.  He had almost left the room when Isa remembered something he’d meant to ask.  “Master Ansem?”

“Hmm?”  He paused, turning back to Isa with curiosity on his face.

“When did the forest become inhabited by wolves?”

Ansem the Wise smiled, intrigued by the question.  “Ah, so she has shown herself to you?”

Isa blinked, confused.  “She?”

“I have seen her many times myself.  But on the nights when I take a walk with Ienzo, she does not appear.  I found myself wondering if she was even real. Now, I am even more curious about her origins.”

Isa thought back to his encounter with the wolf.  The animal was definitely solid. He had touched it.  It had purposely followed him and deliberately interacted with him.  How could it not be real? “She is tame, sir. She followed me out of the forest and slept beside me.”

Ansem’s eyes sparkled as he listened to Isa’s experience.  “Sounds like you made a friend. Perhaps she could sense that you needed one.”

Isa dropped his head and contemplated the theory.  Perhaps the wolf’s purpose was to protect people in the forest?  But from what? And why, then, did it follow Isa out onto the field?  He would have to bring Lea out there tomorrow and see if they could catch a glimpse of her again.  “Thank you, sir. Goodnight, sir.”

“Pleasant dreams, Isa.”

Master Ansem headed off to his room and Isa ascended the staircase.  His legs were sore from running, and he regretted his foolishly rushed attempt to improve his fitness.  He paused when he reached the top, panting as he waited for the burn in his muscles to subside. After a few moments, he approached his room and quietly opened the door, hoping he wouldn’t wake Lea.  Thankfully, it seemed Lea was out cold, sprawled out on the mattress, half covered by the mangled sheets. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Isa peeled off his sweaty clothes and crawled into bed beside him.  Lea began to stir almost immediately.

“Isa…?  Is that you…?”

“Shh.  Go back to sleep, Lea.”

“Isa… you smell terrible…”

“So do you.  Goodnight, Lea.”

Lea rolled back over and resumed snoring, and Isa closed his eyes, feeling himself drift away the moment his head hit the pillow.  The moonlight peeked through the curtains beside the bed, letting a cool light into the room, just enough to add to the relaxing atmosphere of the night.  Isa may have imagined it, but as he lay there and let sleep overtake him, he was almost certain he could hear the faint sound of a wolf’s howl from outside his window, rising up from the ground below.


	7. Sunbeams of Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lea and Isa go to Twilight Town to visit Roxas. While there, they meet someone they weren't expecting to see. The author reveals she grew up in Michigan. Apologies ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a little long. I think it's worth it.

The water was quite hot at first.  It poured over Isa’s skin at near-boiling temperatures, soothing his stiff muscles with its heat.  After awhile, the heat ran out and the freezing cold burned his flesh like pure frost. He refused to move.  His legs trembled with pain and tension, struggling to bear his weight. The frigid streams burst from the faucet and coated his sore limbs, numbing him just enough to ease the gnawing ache in his calves.  Aeleus and Dilan had promised this would improve, but had been over a week and he still found himself nearly bedridden after every morning session he spent with the pair.

After a long while, the cold became too much, and he shut the water off, shivering as he staggered out of the shower.  It was a miracle he was able to dry off or slip into any of his clothes. The pain was torturous, and he began to wonder if he might have actually injured himself in his overexertion.  He stumbled out of the bathroom to find Lea sitting on the bed, raising an eyebrow when he saw him.

“You okay, man?  You’re limping.”

“I’m fine.”

Isa collapsed onto the bed, lying face down and hiding his pained grimace behind the bright blue curtain of his hair.  Lea wasn’t fooled for an instant. “Yeah, sure you are. What happened?”

“I think I pulled something,” Isa barely managed to croak through his gritted teeth.  “I thought the shower would help…”

“I told Aeleus and Dilan to go easy on you…”

“And I told them to bring me to tears.  What’s the point of exercising if it doesn’t hurt?”

“Come on, even you know to start small.”

Unable to move, Isa reached for his pillow and buried his face in shame.  “I needed to know if I still had it in me.”

“Isa, being a little rusty doesn’t mean you’ve lost anything.”

“I’m not sure I ever had it in the first place.  It could have just been Xehanort all along.”

“That’s not true and you know it.  Do you know how many of my bones you’ve broken just wrestling as kids?  That was before we were even training. You were always really strong.”

Isa cringed, reliving the first moment he’d injured Lea by accident when they were children.  They’d been tossing a frisbee back and forth for a while when Isa threw it too hard and it landed in a tree.  Though Lea assured him that he could just get another frisbee, Isa insisted on getting it back. He climbed the tree and retrieved the toy easily, but lost his footing on the way down.  He fell out of the tree, landing right on top of his friend. In the collision, Lea’s wrist snapped in half. The sound was nauseating. Lea reacted with only stunned silence, shedding not one tear until later on when the doctor was setting it.  He clung to Isa’s sleeve with a death grip, howling about how beautiful his red cast would be. Isa felt so guilty that he waited on Lea like a servant for weeks afterward.

Lea scooted closer to him on the bed, growing increasingly concerned by his dispirited mood.  “You want to stay home today? I can go by myself. Roxas will understand.”

“No, I’ll go with you.  I’m sure walking it off will do me some good.”

Isa tried to lift himself from the bed, but every movement sent more searing pain shooting through his muscles.  He was effectively stuck. Through with watching his friend suffer, Lea bent down to inspect the offending limb. “Let me see it.”

“It’s fine, Lea.”

“Just let me see it.”

Lea picked up Isa’s leg and pressed his fingers into the sore spots.  He could feel hardened lumps running from his knee to his ankle and a fair bit of swelling spread over the entire area.  “Jeez, what the hell did they do to you? You should feel this knot…”

Isa winced as Lea’s fingers stabbed into his aching muscles like daggers.  “I _do_ feel it.”

Lea softened his touch, slowly dragging his thumbs down the surface of Isa’s skin, pulling at the muscles until the tension began to release.  Isa closed his eyes, willing himself to relax into Lea’s hands and allow his friend to relieve his pain. He never did find out where Lea had learned such a skill, but he always had a special knack for rubbing out even the worst kinks in any muscle.  Isa had forgotten how pleasurable Lea’s massages were, and he quickly sought to put his mind on other things.

“I feel so old…” Isa’s lack of confidence was as good a distraction as any.

“Old?!  You’re not even thirty!”

“I feel at least eighty.”

Lea chuckled softly, “Well, maybe it’s time to unleash your inner child.  Sea salt ice cream, frisbee, swimming…”

“I think you’ve got enough inner child for the both of us.”

Lea giggled some more as he switched to Isa’s other leg.  The procedure wasn’t painless, but Isa had to admit that he felt better whenever Lea was through with him.  He let his mind wander, but it only settled back on the sensation of Lea’s hands gliding along his skin. He found himself wishing he could turn around and watch, but instead his mind began to draw the images for him.  He pictured Lea’s fingers caressing him softly and meticulously, planting themselves into his flesh and gently tugging at the knots until they obediently capitulated, leaving only relaxed muscles in their place. He imagined the sight of Lea bearing into his strained limbs with his palms, his scrawny form having to lean imposingly over Isa’s body in order to lay his full weight into every stroke.

Isa hadn’t noticed that his heart had begun to race, as if he were back with Aeleus and Dilan, accepting their brutal punishment to restore his sense of manhood.  The treatment he was accepting now felt equally punishing, but his sense of manhood was certainly no longer in question. Tension built inside his body again. Chills overtook him and he shuddered at every feathery glance of Lea’s fingertips.  He tried to shut out the fantasies in his mind, but they flooded right back to him every time he managed to distract himself.

The pressure in his body continued to mount at a frightening pace, climbing dangerously near to an unknown peak.  His fingers dug into the sheets with anticipation. There was heat. So much heat. It burned his face and neck. It felt strange.  It felt _good._ It was all quite familiar, but completely new at the same time.  The sensation quickly grew too intense, and Isa gasped with fright, startled by the sudden shock that bolted through him like a spark of electricity beneath his skin.

“Stop…”

Lea lifted his hands instantly, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

 _Quite the opposite_.  “I… No.  No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?  Why don’t you get up and see if you can walk on it now?”

 _Because I can’t._ “I’m quite comfortable here.  Give me a moment.”

Lea lowered himself onto the bed alongside Isa, hoping to glimpse his face.  Isa avoided eye contact, remaining frozen in his spot. If Lea didn’t know any better, he’d say the man’s face appeared flushed.  “Are you alright?”

Isa avoided Lea’s prodding like the plague, certain he’d never live down the humiliation if Lea had discovered the true nature of his plight.  “That was nice, Lea. Thank you. You can go away now.”

Lea smirked, barely suppressing his laughter.  “What’s the matter, Isa?”

“Nothing’s the matter, now would you leave me alone?”

Lea stared at him with a confused look for several seconds.  He was hiding something, but it didn’t take long for Lea to understand just what had troubled Isa so much.  He felt his own cheeks beginning to blush at the thought, flattered to have been the cause of this particular flavor of discomfort in Isa.  With a warm smile, unwilling to let on that he knew of Isa’s predicament, Lea rose from the bed and headed for the door.

“Your legs are a mess.  I’m going to get you some ice.  Take a few minutes to stretch out and I’ll be right back.”

With only a silent nod, Isa waited silently for Lea to leave the room.  As soon as the door was closed, he rolled over onto his back, relieved, staring at the ceiling.  He couldn’t understand why he felt so embarrassed and ashamed — Lea had seen it all countless times and this was tame by comparison.  Sure, it had been ten years, but Isa was never so shy about it before. He simply hadn’t expected these sorts of feelings to awaken so soon or so strongly.  And now that they had, just what was he supposed to do with them?

As he lay there, eyes closed and waiting for the pressure to subside, temptation creeped up on him.  It had been so long. As a Nobody, there just wasn’t any point to it. He had likely forgotten how it even felt.  Ten years. Curiosity gnawed at him. Ten long years. He longed to indulge, if only for just a moment. He clenched his fists as the heat washed over him again.  The pressure came back with a vengeance. His skin began to crawl. Ten lonely years…

_That’s quite enough!!_

He stopped abruptly, chiding himself for such uncivilized thoughts.  He was better than that. He was stronger than that. This was an emotion just like all the rest that had come rushing back to him, and he would have to learn to control it in the same way as the others.  He sat upright, combing his fingers contemplatively through his wet hair. He couldn’t hide it forever. Sooner or later, Lea would find out. Perhaps he already knew. Were the two of them ready to explore those feelings now?

With a heavy sigh, Isa slowly lifted himself off the bed, wincing as he balanced his weight onto his strained legs.  He wasn’t surprised in the least that the pain was far less intense than it was earlier, but his worn out muscles remained quite stiff and unyielding, and he still wondered how he’d manage to keep up with Lea.  He wondered if he shouldn’t take his friend’s advice and just stay home. Lea was excited to be going to Twilight Town, more than deserving of the chance to have a good time, unhindered by any undue stress. No matter the cost, Isa was determined not to ruin Lea’s day by slowing him down.

To his surprise, Isa also found himself looking forward to seeing Roxas again.  It had been some time since they had last talked, and Isa was glad to no longer feel the overbearing weight of guilt whenever he thought of him.  As he stood in front of the window, the sunlight peeking through the curtains, he swallowed down his discomfort and focused on his happy anticipation of the day ahead.  Twilight Town awaited them, and he could hardly wait to see Lea’s face light up when they got there.

* * *

Lea seemed to glide down the streets as he strolled through Twilight Town.  Memories poured into his mind the moment his feet hit the ground, and he practically glowed as he breathed in the clean city air.  The taste of sea salt ice cream, the sound of bells at the clock tower, and the warm radiance of the ever-present sunset made this little village feel like a second home to Lea, and he vowed one day to live here with his friends.

“Unh, I _love_ this town!  Come on, Isa!  Roxas said to meet him in front of the bistro!”

“Right behind you…”

Lea turned around to find Isa looking pale and sickly, walking slightly hunched over at the waist.  “Yikes, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

“Just… don’t make me ride in that thing again…”

”How are we supposed to get back?”

“I’ll walk.”

Isa was beginning to wonder which almighty deity he had offended today to be delivered such endless punishment.  The pain in his legs had dissipated, only for him to now develop motion sickness from the ride to Twilight Town. He had never ridden in a Gummi ship before — in fact he hadn’t even heard of one until Lea explained it to him.  Supposedly, some friends of Sora’s had invented a vessel that could travel between worlds, and now Master Ansem had one of his own. Isa was at least glad to know that Ansem had hired some highly-trained Moogles to operate it. There wasn’t enough munny in all the worlds that would have convinced him to climb into any vehicle with Lea behind the wheel.

Biting back the nausea, Isa followed Lea to the center of town where the bistro was located.  Roxas was seated at a table on the front patio, and Lea rushed to him, smiling widely as he greeted his friend.

“Heya, Roxas!  How’ve ya been?”

Roxas rose from his seat, beaming at the men who had come to visit.  He and Lea shared a few handshakes so elaborate that they appeared to be a choreographed routine.  “Great! I’ve been practicing with my skateboard a bunch, I can’t wait to show you!”

“Awesome!  So, uh, Xion couldn’t come?”

Roxas’ face fell, “She, uh… she wasn’t feeling so good today.”

Roxas continued to avoid eye contact, absentmindedly brushing his fingertips over the rim of an empty water glass on the table beside him.  Lea could tell that something was wrong, but seeing how upset his friend was, he set aside his disappointment and refused to press Roxas for any more information.  “I see. Well, next time, then! Let’s take a walk, you gotta tell me what you’ve been up to.”

The three of them walked all over town, window shopping and chatting about everything and nothing.  Roxas and Xion had moved into a communal apartment with a few other kids from town. Roxas talked about joining them in their endeavors to further their education, having never been to school before in his life.  Roxas also revealed that he had been working for Scrooge McDuck at the bistro, doing whatever odd jobs were required of him. He’d practiced with his skateboard to optimize his performance and improve his efficiency.  Because it was so easy for him to complete more work in less time, Scrooge considered Roxas one of his top employees.

They took a short ride on the tram, carrying them to the other side of town where a larger shopping district was located.  They sauntered up and down every street, peeking into windows and ogling the products they saw. The group soon approached a small curiosity shop with gaudy antiques, fancy ornaments, and other miscellaneous tchotchkes on display.  They were about to pass it by and continue their trek when Roxas spotted a large conch shell on a high shelf in the back corner.

“Look at that!  Xion would love it!”

Before anyone could respond, Roxas darted inside for a closer look.  By the time Lea and Isa had managed to follow him, he disappeared into the back of the store.  Lea casually meandered along the aisles, glancing up and down the shelves of decorations and trinkets.  He peered closely at a small wicker basket that appeared to just be full of rocks. Beside the basket was a small bowl filled with water and a stack of cards.  Following the bold instructions written on the top of every card, Lea picked up one of the rocks and dropped it into the water, watching in awe as the stone’s plain appearance instantly developed an elaborate pattern of connecting hexagons.

“Isa, look at this!”

As his friend neared him, he demonstrated the effect on a second rock, delighted to see the intriguing transformation again.  “This is so cool! How does this work? What kind of rocks are these?”

Impressed, Isa picked up one of the cards explaining the stones.  “It says they aren’t rocks at all. They’re fossils.”

“This is insane… I could do this all day…” Lea kept picking up stones and dropping them into the water just to see the hexagons appear again and again.  The way his smile widened every time he witnessed the effect was endearing, and Isa couldn’t help but chuckle in appreciation of Lea’s enthusiasm.

“They’re apparently called ‘Petoskey Stones,’”  Isa continued to read the card, fascinated by the history of the strange rocks.  “The name roughly translates to ‘rising sun,’ ‘rays of dawn,’ or ‘sunbeams of promise.’  No wonder you’re drawn to them.”

Closely inspecting the fossils, Lea could see that the hexagons each had a tiny, dark nucleus in the center, from which shot several lines reaching to the edges of every shape.  “Sunbeams of promise, eh? They do look like little suns. What a neat quirk that you have to use water to make them really shine. I love these things! This will never get old.”

Roxas soon appeared from around the corner of the next aisle, carrying a small paper bag.  “She’s going to love this. What did you find?”

Lea wasted no time demonstrating the trick with the Petoskey Stones again, eliciting a gasp from Roxas.  “That’s amazing! You just have to get it wet?”

“Yeah!  Otherwise it just looks like a totally normal rock!”

The two admired the Petoskey Stones for several more minutes.  Isa stepped away to examine some other rocks and jewels nearby.  He found a collection of gems labeled “moonstones” which claimed to house some sort of mystical powers.  He never believed in any of that pseudo-spiritual nonsense, but when he learned that magic was a real force that even he could wield, he set aside his skepticism.  It was because of Xehanort that the moon’s forces were tangible to him at one time, able to lend him their power, and in small doses the effect was exhilarating. Longing for just a taste of that euphoria once more, Isa began to wonder if he might one day relearn how to draw energy from the moon with the aid of such stones.

Having spent enough time with the rocks, the group finally left the store, vowing to come back another time and browse for more hidden gems and interesting baubles.  They continued their conversation as they traveled along the streets at a moderate pace, only half paying attention to the sights around them.

“I was thinking I might join the Radiant Garden Restoration Committee,” Axel revealed, making small talk with Roxas as they walked.  “It’s a construction job, mostly, but I think they’d be putting me on Heartless extermination, assuming any new infestations pop up.”

“That sounds pretty cool.  I bet Radiant Garden is really beautiful underneath all that rubble.”

“Oh believe me, Roxas, that town’s name didn’t come out of nowhere.  I wish you could have seen it before.”

Lea had only met the Restoration Committee members a couple of times, but they were quite nice and had a noble objective.  Radiant Garden was Lea’s hometown as well, and he wanted to see it restored to its original, magnificent state just as the others did.  He wondered to himself if Isa might consider joining along with him.

“Leon is the guy running the operation now.  I heard he’s going back to being called Squall, though, so we won’t have any confusion with our names.”

“I’m always going to call you Axel.”

Lea looked down and smiled brightly at his young friend.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They rounded another corner to explore another side street lined with shadier and more mysterious-looking shops.  They passed by a fortune teller, an apothecary, a tattoo parlor, and a strange bookstore that displayed skulls and grotesque-looking effigies in the window.  As they wandered the loosely-populated street, they could hear the faintest sound of live music. Roxas paused, tilting his head with an eyebrow raised. “You guys hear that?”

Axel averted his attention toward the sound.  The style of the music was rather avant-garde, a bit on the modern side for the average listener.  It sounded like a stringed instrument, played by a very skilled musician. “Yeah, must be a street performer.”

“No, I mean… it sounds familiar…”

They headed in the direction of the music, able to see a figure in the distance sitting on a rug and strumming on a sitar.  The closer they came to the figure, the more easily-recognizable it became. Isa’s heart stopped as it became clear who it was they had happened upon.

“Oh no…”

“Demyx?!”

The figure lifted his head, squinting.  “Huh?” The musician’s eyes quickly widened as he beamed at his visitors.  “Roxas! Axel! Small world!”

“Demyx, what are you doing here?”

“Working!  Trying to get my music career off the ground…”

He returned to plucking the strings of his instrument, pausing to turn the tuning pegs every so often.  He no longer wore the leather Organization coat, now dressed in a tattered gray sweatshirt with a zipper and a faded, holey pair of cutoff jeans.  He was barefoot, and his hair was disheveled, but he otherwise appeared to be in good spirits. Residents of the town strolled by, pausing to listen before dropping small change into a soup can Demyx had set beside him.

“How did you get to Twilight Town?”  Roxas asked, curious about how he could have missed Demyx in all the time he’d lived there since the showdown with Xehanort.  The town was large, but Roxas had been all over it and couldn’t imagine having never once passed by the musician if he also lived in it.

Demyx thought for a moment, as if trying to remember.  “I woke up here. By that old mansion.”

Roxas and Lea shared an incredulous look.  “Seriously? So where are you living now?”

“Oh, you know… around…”  Demyx appeared uncomfortable and quickly returned his attention to his playing.  “What do you think of this song? It seems like more people stop to listen when I play this one, but then when I play this other one, more people just toss munny into the can and walk away…”

Lea, with a suspicious tone, pressed Demyx for a more specific response.  “Demyx, where is your house?”

Demyx stopped playing.  He was silent for a few seconds, refusing to look up at his old friends.  Finally, he sighed heavily, “You’re looking at it, dude. I’m homeless.”

Roxas, failing to understand the type of poverty Demyx was suffering, questioned him further.  “But… where do you sleep?”

Demyx began to pluck at his sitar more intensely than before, letting the notes fall out of tune as he over-stretched the strings.  “There’s a nice alley where the rain can’t get in.”

“You just sleep out here on the ground?”

“I’ve got a nice collection of rugs.  It’s not so bad.”

“But what do you do for food?”

Demyx sighed again, growing annoyed with the interrogation.  “I do _this_ , and you’re distracting me while I’m on the job.  Now if you’re not going to put anything in the can, clear out of here.  I’ve got a living to make.”

Having heard quite enough of such tragedy, Isa approached the young musician and knelt in front of him without a word.  Getting a closer look at the man, he could see that Demyx was quite thin — more so than he had ever been. His skin was pale and dirty.  His eyes were heavy with exhaustion. His hands seemed to tremble as he tried to steady them on the neck of his instrument. Isa could barely mask the pity in his eyes as he looked upon the poor kid who had been left behind.  Demyx flinched with fright before glaring at him with disgust and scorn.

“You?  Ugh, come to kick me while I’m down?  It must be pretty funny to see what a loser I turned out to be.”

Isa winced slightly, aware that he deserved every ounce of disdain Demyx could throw at him.  “Demyx… come back with us. Ansem the Wise has more than enough space. You don’t have to sleep on the streets.”

Demyx blinked, unable to mask his confusion and disbelief.  “Huh?”

Isa extended his hand, offering to help him off the ground.  “Please. Come with us.”

Demyx hesitated, staring at him with a doubtful look.  He shied away from Isa’s hand, backing further into the brick wall behind him with anxious distrust.  “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.  I’m only sorry we didn’t find you sooner.  I had no idea you’d turn up here alone.”

Still unwilling to let himself be fooled, Demyx crossed his arms indignantly.  “Saïx, what’s got into you?”

“Saïx is dead.  My name is Isa. Now, are you coming?”

Demyx froze uncomfortably in Isa’s unyielding stare.  He was perplexed by the jarring sight of his former antagonist’s haunting face combined with the friendly gesture of his outstretched hand.  Apprehension crept into his brows as Demyx battled with himself over whether or not to trust the man who had treated him with contempt for so many years.  He longed to escape this encounter and run as far away as he could, but trapped in place and forced to give him a second look, he could see how Isa had softened.  His composure began to crumble immediately and his eyes welled up with tears. Former foe or not, Demyx was tired of the cold, hard pavement, and this man was offering to help him out, expecting nothing in return.  Demyx was touched by his old comrade’s uncharacteristic show of support. He took Isa’s hand and was no sooner lifted to his feet than he threw his arms around Isa’s shoulders, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m so happy to see you guys…!”

Isa stood motionless, initially startled by the hug and unprepared for the sudden emotional outburst and resulting show of affection.  Though Demyx was in dire straits, Isa was glad to see that he was was safe. He reciprocated the embrace, gently patting the young man on the back.  “It’s good to see you, Demyx.”

Several minutes of softly weeping into Isa’s neck passed before Demyx let go of him, sniffling and dragging his sleeves across his face.  Lea, smiling warmly, laid a hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him to join them. “Come on, Demyx, grab your stuff and let’s go! When was the last time you ate something?”

Demyx closed his eyes, contorting his face in concentration.  “Uh… good question…”

Roxas chimed in, “Let’s take him to the bistro!  I’m sure I can get an employee discount.”

Demyx pumped his fists with excitement, “Aw yeah, the bistro!  I’ve been eating scraps from there for weeks! Always wondered what the food was like when it came fresh out of the kitchen.”

The group shared a collective look of pity at hearing that their friend had been forced to eat what was essentially garbage.  Uncomfortable with the depressing atmosphere, Lea put an arm around the young man and guided him back toward the center of town.  “Demyx, you’re making me sad. Let’s go.”

* * *

It was clear that Scrooge McDuck’s bistro had earned all five of its stars.  The food was some of the best that any of the group had ever tasted. Roxas pulled some strings in the kitchen to get the chef to come up with something unique just to celebrate Demyx’s rescue from homelessness.  The group happened to notice that the musician’s plate was slow to empty, but Demyx insisted that he was trying to savor every bite, thrilled to be eating fresh food for the first time in weeks.

“Demyx, I’m sorry, we should be calling you by your human name.”  Lea wasn’t sure how he would manage to address Demyx as anything other than Demyx, but if he was going to insist on being referred to as both Lea and Axel, dependent upon who was speaking, then he could surely afford the same courtesy to his former comrades.

“No need.  I don’t remember it.”

The group all turned to face him, their eyes wide with surprise.  “What? You… don’t remember your name?”

Demyx shrugged, “I don’t remember anything before the Organization.”

Roxas easily related to the phenomenon.  Born the way he was, Roxas didn’t remember anything before the Organization either.  Though it was typical for a Nobody to be born with the memories of their human past, Roxas had no human past to remember.  He was born with a completely empty mind, and spent his first weeks as a Nobody silently staring into space like the blank slate that he was.  He had thought his experience was unique, but now began to wonder if Demyx’s existence was the result of a similar effect. Perhaps Demyx had a Somebody out there who lived blissfully unaware of the Nobody he had unwittingly created, just as Roxas and Sora had been for so long.  Roxas contemplated to himself what else he and Demyx might have in common.

“Maybe Even and Ienzo can help you get your memories back?” Lea had been stroking his chin in thought. “We can ask them when we take you back.”

Demyx smiled bashfully, still taken aback by the kindness of his companions. “You guys have been so nice to me.  How could I ever repay you?”

“Demyx, don’t worry about it.  Master Ansem would be happy to have you as a guest in his home.  You can have my room!”

“What?  Axel, you don’t have to—”

“It’s all yours, Demyx.”

“But where are you gonna sleep?”

There was a sudden pause as Lea and Isa locked eyes, unsure whether or not this was something they wanted to reveal.  Their reasons for sharing a bed were purely platonic — Isa’s night terrors could be so intense that he would wake up in a panic with no idea where he was.  Though he had experienced some improvement as time went on, he still hated the idea of being left alone all night. As far as both men were concerned, they could pass the behavior off as a safety precaution, even if it was more for Isa’s comfort than his actual well-being.  It wasn’t like anything else was going on. Not outside of their minds, anyway.

They were silent for too long, and their eye contact was noticed by the rest of the table.  Demyx began to squeal with delight, excitedly clapping his hands with an enormous grin on his face.  “Aaahh! I’m so happy for you! You guys are so cute together!”

“Wait, what?!”

“Together?!”

“No, no, Demyx, it’s not like that—”

“Oh please, you think we didn’t all know?  We were taking bets on when you were gonna quit bickering and get busy already.  Right, Roxas?”

Roxas, who had been wearing a confused expression through the entire exchange, responded with mild frustration in his voice.  “You never explained to me what ‘getting busy’ meant.”

Demyx cringed, “Oh yeah, you’re right…”

Roxas crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair with an air of confidence about him. “But whatever it was, it didn’t happen, so I won.”

Lea and Isa braved another look, swallowing down their bashful embarrassment.  Lea couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. “Saïx would probably have been a hell of a lot less uptight if we had.”

Isa shared in the humor of the moment, countering Lea’s remark with a perfectly deadpan tone. “And Axel would have been a lot more humble.”

Demyx’s face began to twist with repulsion, but his smile did not falter in the slightest.  “I love you two. You’re grossing me out, but I love you two.”

“I am so confused…” Roxas sighed, exasperated.

Demyx patted the boy on the shoulder in a brotherly manner, leaning in and lowering his voice slyly. “You see, Roxas—”

“Okay, Roxas, show me those skateboard moves!”  Lea interrupted Demyx with a forceful elbow nudge and abruptly rose from the table, changing the subject.  Demyx barely suppressed his laughter behind his palms, bewildering Roxas even further.

Giving up on trying to understand the shared secret among his adult friends, Roxas dropped the issue, eager to show off his new skills anyway.  “Uh, all right! Let’s go up to the train station!”

He grabbed his skateboard from under the table and tossed it onto its wheels, quickly hopping on and riding away.  Turning back for one last playful smirk to Demyx and Isa, Lea quickly took off after him on foot. Chuckling to himself, Isa shook his head and turned back to his companion, showing him what was likely the first genuine smile Demyx had ever seen coming from what used to be such a frightening and expressionless face.

“You did well, Demyx.”

“Huh?”

Isa leaned across the table with warmth in his eyes, “You delivered the replica to Ienzo and protected Even and Ansem the Wise, ensuring that our plan went off without a hitch.  Thanks to you, that happy child lives again.”

Demyx’s jaw dropped so quickly it could have hit the table.  Lost for words, he could only stare at Isa in disbelief. Isa continued to shower his well-deserved praise over the musician.  He had wished he could say all of this back when they were in the Real Organization together, but he couldn’t risk blowing their cover while operating right under Xehanort’s nose.

“Roxas helped defeat Xehanort once and for all, which means you had a hand in preventing the apocalypse and restoring peace to the worlds.  He also defeated me almost single-handedly, allowing me to be recompleted. So… thank you, Demyx. That was very brave.”

“I… what…?”  The musician hadn’t gotten used to Isa’s drastic change in demeanor, still dumbstruck by his sudden kindness toward him.  In the Organization, Demyx remembered Saïx being cold and sinister most of the time, his only laughter being that of the more menacing quality.  To see Isa’s light hearted banter and subtle wit now was shocking in how natural it appeared to be. To add to his surprise, Isa had paid Demyx a series of heartfelt compliments, where he used to fling insults and disparagement every chance he got.  Demyx was a well-known coward, and now this man was praising him for his courage. It was enough to make Demyx’s eyes well up again.

“I suppose I was wrong about you,” Isa concluded.  “You can accomplish great things when you set your mind to them.”

“Am I dreaming?” Demyx pinched himself, expecting to wake up back on the rigid, filthy ground he called his bed.  “Where is all this coming from?”

“From the heart,” Isa’s next apology had been reserved for Xion, but after unexpectedly running into Demyx, he had to rearrange his schedule, knowing how much Demyx deserved a prompt and sincere apology of his own.  Saïx never missed an opportunity to give Demyx a hard time, and Isa had to answer for that behavior now. “Saïx was a bastard. He was a miserable wretch and he took it out on anyone within arm’s reach. Isa… is sorry about all that.”

Demyx sniffled again, fighting the onslaught of tears threatening to erupt from his eyes.  “This might just be the happiest day of my life…”

“I hope not.  I’d like to think this can be topped.”

Demyx picked at the contents of his plate while he thought back over the events that transpired during his mission to bring Roxas back to life.  When he heard that Saïx was the one who had initiated the operation, he didn’t want to believe a word of it. He was certain Vexen must have been crazy to take such a risk with what was obviously bad information.  But he was finally being offered the opportunity to find a way out of the mess he’d gotten himself into. He was afraid, but he couldn’t pass it up.

“I was kind of relieved that Xehanort didn’t want to use me… the thought of having to just be a copy of him… totally gross…”

Isa winced, reminded of the hell he had spent a decade living in.  “Quite.”

“Even that little tiny bit he stuck in me to claim me… I felt so sick all the time, it was awful… I can’t imagine what you had to go through…”

Isa turned to face him, appreciative of his comrade’s sympathy, but feeling guilty that Demyx had to endure even a fraction of what Isa had.  “I’m glad that you suffered no lasting damage from it. But all the same, it shouldn’t have happened to you. I hoped that by ‘benching’ you and Even, you could both have been saved from such a fate.  But Xehanort was too clever…”

“That was you who benched us?”

“I needed you.  I needed people Xehanort wouldn’t be keeping tabs on.  I tried to save Larxene and Luxord and Marluxia as well, but Xehanort needed vessels… It was one of the hardest choices I ever had to make.”

Remorse began to overtake Isa yet again.  He could never have predicted that he was choosing the eventual fates of his comrades when he decided who would be benched.  Even had to be saved regardless — he would provide the replica. Beyond that, he required one delivery boy, and ultimately, Demyx was the only one of the remaining members who Xemnas would never suspect of treachery.  Marluxia and Larxene had committed treason in the past, and Luxord was a cunning individual who excelled at concealing his true thoughts and motives. Demyx was considered an incompetent fool by the highest ranking members of the Real Organization XIII, never to be taken seriously and largely left to his own devices and ignored.  He was an open book and had never rocked any boats in all his years with the Organization, making him the only man that could be trusted for such a risky task. At the end of the day, Saïx was able to spare Demyx and Even, and they had returned as humans. The others didn’t make it back, and Isa couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be sitting at this table with the two of them had he been able to rescue them as well.  He tried to put the thought from his mind.

Demyx continued to nudge bits of food back and forth, his fork scraping against the ceramic plate.  He kept his head down, his face beginning to appear forlorn. “You think… all the other guys got a happy ending, too…?”

Isa’s brow furrowed as he endured another pang of regret. “We’ve not heard from Braig, Marluxia, Larxene, or Luxord.”

“Luxord… I hope he’s alright…”

Isa stared intently at the ground, informing his companion with an apologetic tone. “We haven’t been able to find him anywhere.  I’m sorry, Demyx, I wish I could put you at ease.”

“It’s okay… he’s a tough guy… I’m sure he’s fine…”

Demyx was good friends with Luxord.  Numbers IX and X had bonded over their mutual disdain for being on the ‘bottom rung’ and left out of all the important discussions about the goings on in the Organization.  As he reminisced, a particularly sentimental memory burst into his mind of the last time he saw Luxord before taking off for his last fateful battle with Sora.

_You were going to leave without saying goodbye?_

_I, uh… I wasn’t sure what to say…_

He had hoped to take off without having to put himself through this, but Luxord was a clever man.  Demyx knew it was he who had burst into his room unannounced before even turning around to face him.

_You know, we’re both dead men walking.  If Roxas was going to explode out of that kid’s body, he would have likely done so by now.  You and I haven’t a prayer._

_Yeah… damn shame I never got to beat you at poker…_

The men smiled at each other to conceal their melancholy, quietly accepting their mutual fates.  Luxord gripped the younger man’s shoulder affectionately with sorrow in his eyes.

_I think I’m going to miss the sound of your sitar._

_Don’t do that.  This is hard enough as is._

_You can’t win them all.  A true gentleman accepts defeat with dignity and grace._

_I don’t want to be a true gentleman…_

It didn’t matter anymore than Xemnas had ordered them both to their deaths.  Demyx gave up trying to hide his fear and sadness. If he was going to be eliminated, he was going to let himself feel every second of it, dignity and grace be damned.  Luxord, being the good friend he had always been, didn’t flinch at the sight of Demyx’s tears.

_Don’t fret, my friend.  I’ll see you on the other side._

_How do you know there’s an other side?_

_I don’t.  But the fun is in not knowing, isn’t it?  What’s the point of betting on something if you already know the outcome?_

The next thing he remembered after his defeat at Sora’s hands was waking up in his bed, shocked to be alive.  He wondered if it was all a dream, but the aches he felt in his body were certainly real. He rushed to the mirror half expecting to see his own ghost, and he gasped in horror when he looked into his new, yellow eyes.  Almost immediately, he heard a blood-curdling scream from the next room. Larxene’s room. The sound made his skin crawl, but he had no time to react before his door opened behind him.

“Are you feeling alright, Demyx?”  Isa had taken notice of the shift in Demyx’s expression.  He stared into space with a subdued grimace. Though he had been excited to be fed, Isa had also noted that the food on the musician’s plate had been largely untouched.

Jolted from his spiral, Demyx shifted uncomfortably in his seat, embarrassed by his unexpected flashback.  “Huh? Oh, I’m fine. I guess when you aren’t used to eating much, your stomach shrinks, right?”

Isa was not convinced, “Right.”

The longer he watched the kid fidget with his silverware, the clearer the symptoms shone.  It was a warm day, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead, but Demyx was shivering violently.  His eyes were outlined with dark circles in sharp contrast to the pale skin of his face. Small sores and red patches seemed to peek out from beneath his jacket, spreading over his neck and hands.  Isa grew wary with each new observation. This looked painfully familiar. He knew the signs when he saw them.

“It’s none of my business, Demyx.  But if there’s anything else going on, you can tell me.”

“Is your head all foggy, too?”

“Foggy?”

Demyx pressed his fingers to his temples, sighing with his eyes closed and appearing to be in pain.  “My mind feels so blank. Full of holes. My brain hurts trying to remember. I don’t remember my past.  I don’t remember how I got stuck back with the Organization after Sora finished me off. I don’t even know how I ended up human again after I brought Zexion the replica.  One minute I’m in Master Ansem’s research lab, watching them put Roxas together, next minute I’m face down in the grass in front of that Mansion with nothing. I was totally alone and I had no idea what happened.  I can’t even open dark corridors anymore so I couldn’t leave. I’ve just been stuck here. This is my rock bottom. I feel totally lost.”

Isa switched chairs to sit closer to the young man, leaning in and speaking softly.  “Hey, relax. You don’t have to figure all that out now. You need to take the time to adjust.  It’s a difficult process. But you’re not alone. You’re surrounded by friends now.”

Demyx lifted his eyes to Isa, “Friends?  Really?”

Mimicking a gesture of support he’d been on the receiving end of many times since his recompletion, Isa laid a hand on Demyx’s back.  “Of course. The only reason I can sit here today is because I have the support of my friends to carry me through the adjustment. I’m happy to count you among them.”

Demyx’s eyes began to glisten yet again.  “Dude, I’m gonna cry.”

“Don’t start now or I will too.”

With tears falling down his cheeks, Demyx burst out of his chair, pulling at Isa’s sleeves.  “Get up, bro! We’re hugging it out!”

_Damn it, Demyx…_

Demyx was an odd fellow.  About that there was no doubt.  Isa had always known him as a man of few words.  Not to mean that the kid didn’t talk up a storm when he got excited, but that his vocabulary was simple, and he often found alternative ways to communicate his intentions when he couldn’t find the right words.  It only made sense that instead of a grandiose speech followed by hours of grueling discussion, Demyx preferred to settle their past differences with a friendly embrace. It was foreign to Isa, who could often be rather poetic in his speech when he got carried away, but the simplicity of this particular gesture had a warmth to it that clearly accentuated its appeal.  For Demyx, words weren’t necessary. A hug was as good a reconciliation as any, and today, that was just fine for Isa.


	8. Traumatized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice cream in hand, Lea and Roxas have a good talk on the clock tower, just like old times.

By the late afternoon, Lea and Roxas were almost certain they’d run out of things to talk about.  They’d spent all day catching up, chatting nonstop about every little thing they could think of. They were quiet as they seated themselves on the clock tower, sea salt ice cream dripping over their fingers and feet dangling off the ledge.  They’d spent untold hours sitting in this exact spot, watching this exact sun hanging in the sky and smearing its warm colors along the horizon with its rays. They would converse, sometimes just for the sake of hearing each other's voices, but were silent just as often, content to enjoy the moment as it was.  If they had nothing left to say now, it would be just fine.

Roxas lapped at his ice cream bar to stay ahead of its melting in the warm evening air.  “Is it just me, or does this ice cream taste a little sweeter than usual?”

Lea grinned at him, certain that he was probably right.  “It’s just you, buddy.”

Isa and Demyx had elected to stay behind at the bistro table.  Isa’s legs were too sore to climb the steps to the clock tower ledge, and Demyx was deathly afraid of heights.  Lea hoped the two were having as good a time as he was with Roxas. He’d endured far too many evenings sitting on this stone ledge alone with three ice cream bars in hand, wondering if he’d ever see the boy again.  The kid was special to him, and since his return, Lea cherished every fleeting moment he got to spend with Roxas.

Roxas had been watching Axel and noticed the changes in his expression.  He made small talk, curious why the man seemed so sentimental all of a sudden.  “Isa is looking better since I last saw him. How is he doing?”

Roxas was barely able to capture Axel’s focus.  His gaze remained fixed on the perpetually sinking sun, as if he were completely lost in thought.  “He’s toughing it out,” Lea responded softly. “It’s a difficult recovery. He needs a lot of TLC.”

“TLC?”

Lea smiled as he leaned casually leaned on his knee.  “That just means he needs a lot of attention.”

“Really?” Roxas pressed further, treading carefully. “That must be hard on you.”

Lea shrugged indifferently.  “Eh. He’s needy, but he doesn’t mean to be.  And I don’t mind. I like taking care of him. We have a lot of baggage to work through and this has been a great healing period for both of us.”

“I’m glad to hear that.  I know what he means to you.”

Lea finally pulled his eyes off the sunset and turned to his friend with a look of surprise.  “You do?”

Roxas had been thinking on his recent conversation with Isa.  When he first saw the man, his human state restored, hiding in a corner, his usually haunting and expressionless face etched with abject terror, he wasn’t sure what to think.  This was the same man who had gone out of his way to antagonize Roxas and Xion day after day, later attributing the behavior to nothing more than petty jealousy. Anyone else would have told Isa to hit the road and not lost a wink of sleep over it.  But for Roxas, that would have been too easy. It took some convincing, but he finally made himself go and talk to the man, if only to better understand what Axel saw in him, and in the end, he was quite glad that he did. “Well, yeah. I mean… he told me a little bit.  He said you were close friends. That you grew up together.”

Lea’s lips curled into a nostalgic grin as he absentmindedly nibbled at his ice cream.  “He’s right. We go way back. For years we were inseparable.”

Roxas still found the statement to be jarring.  In the Organization, all the interaction he’d ever seen between Axel and Saïx was dripping with passive aggression and unnecessary hostility.  Saïx had reacted with cold apathy at the possibility of Axel having been annihilated with the rest of the group at Castle Oblivion. He ordered Axel to eliminate his friends without an ounce of mercy.  If they were truly inseparable as Axel claimed, then whatever had happened between the two must have been serious.

“It’s… still kind of weird, to be honest.  Seeing him on this side of the line…” Roxas whispered meekly, cautiously sidestepping an accidental offense to his friend.

Reading Roxas’ apprehension quite well, Lea gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder with warmth in his eyes.  “It’s okay, Roxas. You didn’t know him before, so it’s only natural to think it’s a little weird.”

The two shared a smile and returned to their ice cream.  Roxas had finished his and was surprised to see that Axel had been taking his time.  It was quite rare that Roxas beat him to the finish, and he worried that something was wrong.  He watched the man for clues, only finding the same thoughtful expression concealing the mysteries in his thoughts.  Curious, Roxas braved a knock on the door to Axel’s mind, hoping for a glimpse of what was inside.

“Tell me about what he was like before.”

Caught unprepared, Lea took a moment to think before trying to give the most accurate description of Isa without rambling on for days.  “Well… He was a loner. He was always kind of dark and broody, but not in a bad or scary way. He was just introverted and thoughtful, maybe kind of shy.  That mysterious smolder in his eyes was always there.”

Lea’s eyes developed a dreamy haze as he reminisced, unable to stop himself gushing about his old friend.  He was gnawing at the end of his ice cream stick, thinking back to the first time he’d ever eaten sea salt ice cream.  After being tossed out of Ansem the Wise’s castle again, he and Isa were roaming the streets dejected when they saw Scrooge McDuck’s new ice cream stand.  Lea chose the weirdest sounding flavor and bought one for each of them. He loved the taste so much that he never bothered trying any of the other flavors.  To his delight, Isa seemed to like it, too, and they regularly shared their new favorite treat together from that moment on.

“He was rebellious.  Determined. Very loyal and protective.”

Roxas’ heart warmed as he saw the glint in Axel’s sparkling teeth.  There wasn’t a soul alive who was immune to his smile. “That’s so crazy to hear.  It sounds like he was a really great friend.”

Lea nodded, his face falling with a hint of pity.  Isa was always a good friend. He just lost sight of what that meant and took it to a dangerous and frightening extreme.  Thanks to Xemnas, he’d lost his ability to properly express how deeply he cared for Lea, and that had been the downfall of their relationship.  “Xehanort took all of his worst qualities and roided the crap out of them, so all you ever knew was his anger and resentment. What you never got to see was his soft side.  Melts your heart. He can be so sweet it’s almost nauseating. He’s a romantic, you know.”

“No way!”

“Oh totally,” Lea swooned, his chest fluttering.  “Isa is very passionate. It’s… intense.”

Roxas was on the edge of his seat, his anticipation palpable, and Lea couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s obvious curiosity.  “I can see the question written all over your face, buddy. The answer is yes.”

Roxas’ jaw dropped, completely stunned by the reveal.  “I never would have guessed…”

Lea smirked at his reaction, “We were through by the time you were born.  It got really complicated after we became Nobodies. In fact, it was only because of you that we started talking again.  Since you showed up, a lot of those feelings started coming back…”

“Really?”

“Yeah… Thank you, Roxas.  I really owe you for that.”

For years, Lea and Isa maintained a strictly professional relationship, refusing to even acknowledge their past.  Once Roxas came along, all of that began to change. The more he was able to feel, the more Lea began to explore the meaning of friendship and the complicated nature of love.  His ability to care deeply for another person had reawakened. Joy had returned to his life. In contrast, Isa’s cold indifference seemed to shift to scorn and resentment. He brought up their past with bitterness in his voice.  He called Lea by his human name again, not with warm familiarity, but with contempt. He expressed pain and heartache in his own way. Where Lea grew happier, Isa grew more miserable, developing a stinging bitterness at his former friend’s abandonment.  The two had started talking, but were unable to really work out their issues before Lea left the Organization.

“Above all, Isa was balanced.  Saïx was not. That’s what made the two so different.  The Isa you see now is almost like the Isa I grew up with in every way.  But we’re adults now, so all of those qualities matured along with him. In many ways it’s like he’s a completely different guy, and I’m getting to know him all over again.  It’s an adventure.”

Roxas, recovering from the shock of Axel’s confession, voiced the last question burning in his mind.  “So… are you going to get back together?”

Lea shrugged, “I don’t really know.  He’s got a lot of his own issues to work out before that sort of thing even becomes an option.”

Knowing that this was a topic often difficult for someone so young to grasp, Lea considered dropping it here and changing the subject.  But, upon seeing the kid’s confused expression, Lea decided to elaborate, hoping Roxas would understand. Roxas had seen things most adolescents — and even adults — couldn’t imagine, and that had to count for something when calculating the boy’s actual maturity level.  “You see, Roxas… when it comes to those kinds of relationships, it’s generally best to have all of your own problems sorted out beforehand. Otherwise you end up dumping those problems on the other person.”

Staring into the distance, taking mental notes, Roxas nodded as he absorbed the explanation.  “I see. So it’s a bad idea to get romantically involved with someone when you’re not totally okay by yourself.”

Lea was pleasantly surprised that Roxas was picking it up so easily.  “Exactly. How can you focus on someone else’s needs if you’re too wrapped up in your own?  How can you love another person if you haven’t figured out how to love yourself?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Roxas shrugged.  “But… what if two people who are hurting get together and end up fixing each other’s problems?  Like if you put two broken people together and they become whole?”

Lea gave him a sympathetic look, “That’s a cute fantasy, but it never works out that way.  Those two broken people usually are so distracted by their own issues that they could never hope to fix their partner’s.  It’s like asking a baby to take care of another baby. Neither one of those babies knows how to take care of themselves yet, so how could they possibly take care of each other?”

The words Axel was saying made sense, but Roxas lacked a particular context that would fit the puzzle together neatly in his mind.  Was it experience? Roxas was considered an infant when he was put in charge of Xion at only fourteen days old. As far as he was concerned, the two of them were babies, and they seemed to get on just fine, helping each other out with their missions and being supportive friends.  What were they missing?

Lea smiled warmly and patted Roxas’ back.  “Don’t sweat it, man. You’ll understand someday.  It’s one of those things that makes more sense when you’re older.  Your brain grows more and develops more connections and is able to process more complex information like that.”

After awhile, it was clear that Roxas was not watching the sunset anymore and was instead staring at the ground with a downcast look on his face.  Lea was quiet for several minutes, waiting to see if Roxas might share what was on his mind, but he kept his eyes down and didn’t say a word.

“What’s up?” Lea asked with mild concern in his voice.  “You look like you’ve got something eating at you.”

Roxas didn’t respond right away.  He sighed, hanging his head. “I was thinking about Xion.”

“Yeah?  What about her?”

Roxas hesitated again, collecting his thoughts before finally revealing what had been troubling him.  “She’s… she’s different.”

“How so?” Lea tried to mask his worried tone with one of curiosity, unsure if he was all that successful.  Roxas lifted his head and seemed to struggle piecing together his explanation. He dug through his mind for the correct words, trying to construct an answer that would make sense to Axel when it still didn’t even make sense to him.

“I mean, she doesn’t act different when she talks to me or anything.  She’s the same old Xion then. And it’s great, it’s just like old times.”

There was a pause, and Lea sensed there was more to the story.  “But?”

Roxas fidgeted with his ice cream stick, his hands trembling as he picked at the splintering wood.  “She spends a lot of time in bed. I thought she was just sleeping a lot, but her eyes were usually open.  I asked her if she was sick, but she says she’s just tired. Then at night I’ll walk by her room when it’s late enough that she should be asleep, and she’s just looking out the window, totally motionless.”

The more Lea listened to Roxas’ words, the more familiar they began to sound.  Xion had struggled in the past with her burgeoning identity and was being antagonized by Riku and by Saïx at the time.  She had stopped coming to the clock tower and was often not even seen in the Grey Area before or after missions. Now, she was fully human for the first time; a completely new experience that was likely overwhelming for such a young person.  Lea regretted that he hadn’t had much chance to talk with her lately. He should have guessed that she might be struggling with the adjustment just as much as anyone else would be, if not even more so given her unique circumstances.

“She won’t come visit her friends in Radiant Garden.  She won’t come to the clock tower. She barely leaves the house.  She doesn’t really eat much. A lot of times I catch her just staring into space.  And there’s this look in her eyes that I can’t describe. She looks… lost. Sad. But I ask her what’s on her mind and she says it’s nothing and changes the subject.”

Roxas’s voice was beginning to shake the more he described Xion’s condition.  He dropped his head in his hands, digging his fingertips into his scalp as he spoke.

“I’m worried about her, Axel.  I don’t know what to do.”

Lea could barely conceal his anxiety over the news that Xion was in such poor shape, but for Roxas’ sake, he set aside his own emotions and leaned in toward his troubled friend.  “Roxas… she sounds depressed. There’s obviously something hurting her that she hasn’t managed to work through yet.”

“But what can I do?”

Lea racked his brain for an answer, coming up pitifully short, but putting forth his best effort to explain.  “Well… that’s tricky. It’s different for everyone. Some depressed people need a lot of care. Others need their space.  And a lot of them aren’t sure which one they need anyway.”

The unclear response and resulting lack of solution discouraged Roxas even further.  He slumped his shoulders in defeat, unsure how he’d ever manage to help Xion if she didn’t even know what she needed.  Lea added to his explanation, hoping he’d enlighten Roxas to the complicated nature of the situation. “You have to remember, Roxas, that Xion endured a very traumatic event.  A series of them, in fact. That kind of thing can mess you up for a while afterward, and it can take a long time to go back to feeling normal again. And that’s if you ever do…”

“You mean she might not ever get better?”

“I don’t think that’s the case.  Xion has a support system. Having a good group of friends who care about you can go a long way toward healing that kind of injury.”

As Roxas sat and quietly processed the information, Lea reflected on his role in helping Isa during his recovery.  He had meant it when he told Roxas that Isa was a welcome burden, and that he was happy to care for his old friend, elated to have the chance to be close to him again.  Though the man was pretty high-maintenance at the moment, Lea gladly took his neediness in stride. Isa would surely have done the same for him, had their roles been reversed.  “The best thing you can do now, Roxas, is just be ready. Be ready for whatever it is she might need. Sometimes Isa gets into a really low spot and he needs me to just be there until he feels better.  Other times, he goes for a walk to clear his head or sits on the grass and stares at the sky so he can sort out his thoughts. He needs space to be alone with his feelings without anyone distracting him.  You just never know what they’re going to need from you, so you gotta be prepared for anything.”

“It sounds hard.  What if I mess up?”

“You might.  But if she still considers you a good friend, she’s not going to resent you for just trying to help.”

Axel laced his fingers behind his head and laid down on the stone floor behind the ledge, gazing up at the clouds.  The two were quiet for a long time as they relaxed and watched the colors blend in the sky. Isa and Demyx would likely be wondering what was keeping them, but they were far too comfortable to leave.

“What are you thinking about?”  Lea turned toward Roxas and found him with a contemplative look on his face.

“I was trying to decide if I feel traumatized.”

Roxas stared into the distance as he elaborated his thoughts.  “I mean, I’m not supposed to exist. From the very beginning people told me that.  I violated the laws of nature by just being here. It bothered me, I guess, but I was here and I was alive and I wanted to stay that way.  That was all that mattered.”

Lea sat back up, diverting his full attention to Roxas.  His story was just as tragic as Xion’s. It made perfect sense that he might have some unresolved pain in his heart after everything he’d been through, but this was the first time he was opening up about it.  Lea let him have the floor, refusing to interrupt as Roxas spilled out his hurt and sorrow for the first time.

“Then… when I realized I was different from other Nobodies, and that my other half had his own body and his own life and his own friends who missed him… I wasn’t sure what to think or feel then.  I had to make a choice. It was either me or him. By going on living, I was depriving him of the life he used to have. I was keeping him from his friends. He was  _ supposed _ to exist.  I wasn’t. He had more of a right to live than I did, and I felt… guilty, I guess.”

Gradually, Roxas’ slumped posture grew more stiff and tense.  His shoulders seemed to tremble and he had broken his ice cream stick in half.  The heavy breaths that flowed through him became more audible as his body visibly rose and fell with each one.  It pained Lea to see him so upset, yet still holding it back. He grasped his friend’s shoulder, wishing that through the connection he could suffer the anguish in Roxas’ place.

“But that wasn’t all.  I was angry. How could the universe have been so cruel?  To give me life only to take it away? I was scared and I was confused and I was sad.  I  _ hated _ Sora for doing that to me.  Even as I stood in front of him and watched him sleep, knowing he had no idea what was happening… I hated his guts.  I was so ready to draw my Keyblade and take him out right then and there. But… I couldn’t fight anymore. I lost. I joined with Sora because I had nowhere else to run.”

Listening to the story of Roxas’ final day alive filled Lea with sadness.  The memories still stung, and Lea hoped he’d buried them away for good. It was one of the most mournful days of his life.

_ “If you can’t bring him back, then eliminate him.” _

_ “How could you ask me to do such a thing?  Are you that desperate to hurt me?” _

_ “Spite is an emotion that I lack the ability to feel.” _

_ “Bullshit!  These days it’s like spite is your middle name!” _

_ “You have your orders.  Obey, or face your end.” _

_ “Pfft.  No one would miss me.” _

Lea tried desperately to push the memories away, wincing at the ache they still caused him.  Hearing his friend describe those events from his point of view forced Lea to relive them as he remembered them, agonizing as they were.  The intensity of the experience hadn’t subsided in the least. In his weakness, Lea failed to fight off the onslaught of heart rending images and feelings in his mind.

_ “Axel…” _

_Damn it, Roxas.  Of all the times for you to remember me…_ Axel stood there, on the cusp of losing his best friend, having run out of time.  This was his last shot. He stared Roxas in the eyes, letting the anger boil in his veins.  Roxas had abandoned him. He walked away without a single thought for the friend he was leaving behind.  How could he be so selfish? Axel flew into a blind rage, the only motivation he could find to justify what he was about to do.

_ “So, you really do remember me?  I’m so  _ flattered!!”

The battle was initiated in an overly grandiose manner that only Axel could achieve.  He cast a wall of flames around the two of them, leaving Roxas without an escape. As he summoned his chakrams, he kept his head down, hiding the pain in his eyes, coaxing himself to get it over with.  What was the difference if he eliminated Roxas now? He’d be gone either way. It would have been easier to kill him if he hadn’t regained his memories. Axel could just pretend the kid was some stranger he’d been sent to take out.  But it was too late now. All the anger and fury in the world wasn’t going to make this hurt less. His weapons were ready and he could hesitate no longer. Axel rose to face his opponent and couldn’t help but smile at him one last time before everything went to hell.

_ “Let’s meet again in the next life…” _

Roxas’ voice was beginning to break as he recounted his tragic tale.  His eyes burned, bloodshot and filled with tears. He bowed his head, concealing the evidence to his loss of control from Axel.  He couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t let Axel see him like this. Little did he know that Axel was in the same boat, fighting back his emotions alongside him.

“I was angry at Sora for a long time when I was stuck in there.  I had to watch everything from behind his eyes, only half-aware of what we were experiencing.  I could see you, but I couldn’t talk to you. I missed you, but I didn’t understand why. As we merged, I felt myself being swallowed up.  I could only break through every once in awhile, and every time hurt so bad… And even after I was released, even to this day… it’s hard not to resent him.  Whether he meant to or not, he created me only to lock me away. He got to go on living while I had to disappear. Every second trapped in that lonely prison was like an eternity.  It was hell. And I’m not sure I can just let that go so easily.”

Lea couldn’t think of anything to say, only able to compassionately stroke Roxas’ back to quell the quivering in his body.  There was a helplessness to looking Sora in the eyes, knowing his best friend was trapped behind them and that there was nothing that could be done to free him.  In a way, Lea had resented Sora, too. What made  _ him _ so damn special?  Why did  _ he _ get to walk around like nothing was wrong even as he carried the wrongfully imprisoned hearts of three other people inside him?  Why didn’t Lea just turn his keyblade on the little brat when he had the chance? Lea chided himself for indulging in such cruel thoughts.  Of course, Sora would have gladly released every one of those poor trapped hearts if he knew how. He might even have sacrificed himself in the process if it was the only way.  Being angry at him didn’t bring Roxas back, and it never made Lea feel any better.

Roxas finally picked up his head, sweeping his fingers across his cheeks with a light chuckle.  “I guess maybe I do have some issues to work on…”

Lea wrapped an arm around Roxas’ shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze.  “Your experience was just as traumatic as Xion’s, Roxas. You both suffered a lot.  Anyone would feel the way you do after going through that.”

Roxas shook his head, “But now… Sora’s gone.  It feels wrong to be angry at him now. Especially since he helped me come back, and he was nothing but kind to me.  After all that, he’s gone, and I’m still here.”

Lea understood, but insisted, “Roxas… it’s okay to have feelings like that.  That’s part of healing. You have to work through all that icky stuff before you can start feeling better.  You don’t have to pretend like you and Sora would be best buddies if he were here. You can still be angry. You can still hurt.”

“But I got everything I wanted and he disappeared.  How can I possibly be angry at him after a sacrifice like that?”

“Feelings don’t need a reason.  They happen whether we want them to or not.  You can’t control emotions, Roxas.”

Roxas hung his head once more with a sigh.  Sora wasn’t dead, and he figured he shouldn’t be talking about him like he was, but as far as anyone was concerned, he wasn’t coming back.  Roxas didn’t entirely understand what had happened to him, but he interpreted the events as Kairi being killed by Xehanort and Sora diving into death right after her, hell bent on dragging her back from the grave.  It was an incredible sacrifice, and from what Roxas could tell, it was all for nothing.

Roxas knew that he carried a fragment of Sora with him.  He felt it incorporating into his own identity little by little, and he took notice when those bits of Sora peeked out from the void.  It wasn’t as though Sora’s influence was any jarring contrast to his own — nothing about it felt out of place or uncharacteristic, but sometimes he felt the two personalities clash.  This was one of those times. Roxas was hurt and wanted to stay angry. Sora was understanding and ready to let it go. It felt like a constant tug-of-war where no one could win.

“I just feel guilty… I shouldn’t be dwelling on all that now.  It’s in the past. I should be mourning him just like everyone else.”

“The past can still hurt, Roxas.  Think of the last time you got injured.  Did it stop hurting right away?”

“No…”

“Exactly.  It can take awhile before the pain will fade.  And sometimes, it just won’t go away at all until you actually repair the injury.”

Roxas reflected on Axel’s words.  He was right. Pain can arrive suddenly, but it’s slow to leave.  Perhaps Roxas just needed more time. Perhaps Xion did, too. They had lots of time and Roxas was more than willing to wait, but would waiting be enough?  Axel’s advice also included the caveat that some pain required work before it would dissipate. Maybe there was something Roxas had to  _ do  _ in order to let go of the hurt.  Maybe it was the same for Xion. Maybe, whatever it was, they could do it together and finally be able to heal.

“Axel, do you think I can help Xion?  Do you think I’m too broken to take care of her?”

Lea shook his head, impressed that Roxas felt so compelled to help someone in need that he eagerly set aside his own problems to do so.  At one time he might have attributed that unconditional compassion to Sora, but he knew Roxas was just as prone to selflessness as his other.  Roxas deserved to claim that trait as his and his alone. “Of course not. I think you and Xion could help each other. You’re both broken, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t still stick together while you heal.”

“As friends?”

“You’re interested in something more?”

Roxas averted his gaze, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  “Well, I… I don’t know… maybe…”

_ They grow up so fast…  _ Lea was thrilled to hear that these feelings were beginning to develop in Roxas.  He remembered quite well when they had first awakened in himself, and welcomed the pleasant reminder of those happy days.  He wished nothing but the same happiness for his young friend. “Give it time, buddy. You’ve got plenty of it. For now, focus on getting better.  You two are great friends now, and you don’t want to ruin that by trying to change it before you’re ready. Buttons, you know.”

Roxas beamed at him, appreciative of his advice, a smile which Axel quickly returned.  Axel was his best friend; of this there was no doubt. But their connection ran far deeper than friendship.  Roxas had come to look on Axel as the big brother he never had. He was family. “Okay. That makes sense. Thanks, Axel.  You’re the best.”

The cool breeze cut through the heat in the air, brushing over their faces and blowing their hair all about.  Lea, refreshed by the sensation, leaned into the gentle gusts and let them wash over his skin. He thought back to the days where he sat in this spot with Roxas and Xion, begging the sky to send them just a little bit of wind — just enough to dry the sweat from their necks as they boiled inside their thick leather coats.  He recalled the first time he’d brought Roxas to this special place and introduced him to sea salt ice cream, barely containing his delight when he saw the kid’s eyes widen with his first bite. He remembered the first time he saw Xion’s face, mysterious and familiar, but bright and cheerful as well, exhibiting a kindness that permeated her entire being.  Lea could spend days getting lost in these memories.

“I missed you, man.  I missed this.”

“Me too.  Promise we’ll do this more often?”

“I promise.  Some day, I’d love to see all of our friends with us up here.  It might take awhile, but wouldn’t that be great? All of us just sitting here eating ice cream and watching the sunset together?”

Roxas closed his eyes and pictured the scene.  He and Axel would sit right where they are now, ice cream in hand, shooting the breeze while the sun bathed them in its warmth.  Xion would be beside them, sprinkling her quick-witted remarks into their conversation. She’d be feeling better. Happiness would sparkle in her eyes again, and she’d look at Roxas with that same soft smile she always had.  Hayner would be there, too, likely bragging about something, desperate to impress his friends even though he never needed to. Pence would be babbling about something paranormal or mysterious with excitement in his voice. Olette would be showing off some cool new bauble she’d purchased recently, eagerly rattling off some interesting facts about it.  Roxas supposed that even Isa would be there, sitting quietly beside Axel while Demyx roamed behind the group loudly strumming away on his sitar. Perhaps even more people would join them— Naminé, Riku, Ienzo… It didn’t matter that they’d never all fit on the clock tower ledge at once. They’d find a way to have a good time just enjoying the company of their beloved friends, and that would be enough for them.

“Yeah.  That would be pretty awesome.”


	9. Waxing and Waning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really don't want to spoil this chapter. Enjoy :)

_ Gibbous _

Isa clutched the collar tightly to his chest, desperate for even the tiniest glimmer of connection to his old friend.  He’d spent all day searching for Gibbous, but there was no sign of him anywhere, and would soon be too dark to keep looking.  He stared out the gaping hole in the bricks that had become his window. The sun had set and stars began to peek out from behind the clouds.  He had a perfect view of the sky, and had spent many nights staring into the black abyss from this very spot with Gibbous resting peacefully beside him.  He couldn’t understand why his beloved pet would leave after all they’d been through together.

He closed his eyes, biting back his grief as he fondly reminisced.  He’d taken care of Gibbous ever since he was a pup, and at the same time, he felt as though Gibbous had taken care of him.  He loved that mutt like it was family. After the death of Isa’s mother, the two only had each other. To lose Gibbous was to finally lose everything.  Now, Isa was truly alone.

Hearing the sound of laughter and commotion from the street below, Isa peered out his window for a glimpse of the action.  He could see a group of boys — the gang of miscreants he ran with. They must have been planning to entertain themselves with some more of their usual debauchery.  He set the collar aside and decided to go down and investigate. Those guys were the only company he could count on now.

As he headed toward the crowd, he noticed they were all huddled around a stranger; a small, skinny boy with red hair who appeared to be younger than Isa.  He was well-dressed; clearly not a street kid. Isa had never seen him before and wondered where he’d come from.

Jono, the gang’s oversized leader, slowly sauntered to the center of the circle, eyeing the kid with a smirk.  “You just ran into the welcome wagon, kiddo! Got any munny on ya?”

“Wh-what?  No… I don’t have anything…”

The red-haired boy cowered under the much larger Jono, retreating only to back into a couple of his lackeys who quickly grabbed him by the arms, restraining him with a chorus of hearty guffaws.  “You want us to search his pockets, Jono?”

“Patience, boys.  Where’s the fun in skipping straight to the conclusion?”

Jono was cracking his knuckles, meandering toward the kid with a sinister smile on his face.  The boy, eyes wide with fear, tried to wriggle out of his captors’ grasp, his voice rising in pitch as he pleaded with the gang’s leader.  “Please, I don’t have anything! Let me go!”

The gang of misfits only laughed at the sight of the terrified child squirming and begging for mercy.  Enjoying himself and in no hurry to release his prey, Jono drew out the mugging for no other reason than his own amusement, reaching out and gently clasping his fingers around the kid’s collar.

“Come on, redhead, we just want to play—“

“Hey!”

Isa had snuck up behind the group, calmly watching the impending robbery with his arms crossed and a disapproving glare on his face.  The group whipped their heads around with a collective gasp. Jono, having recognized the voice, turned to face his rival with a competitive grin.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Isa, finally come out of his cave!”

“What are you doing?”

Jono threw up his hands in exasperation, gesturing toward the red-haired boy.  “What’s it look like we’re doing? We’re making a living! Turn him over, boys.”

“Stop.  He’s just a kid.  Let him be.”

“Kids are easy pickings, Isa!  A man’s gotta eat.”

Isa took slow, deliberate steps toward Jono’s victim, peering at the kid’s face as he neared him.  There was a youthful innocence in his watering eyes and a cheerful glow on his flushed cheeks. He recoiled as Isa approached him, his skinny body trembling with fright.  Isa leaned in, only inches from him, making a show of his inspection. “Look at him. He doesn’t have anything. He’s as broke as we are.”

Isa walked away, feigning disinterest in the hopes that Jono would call off his minions.  Jono‘s haunting grin only widened. “Well then, maybe he’d like to join us? You looking for some friends, new kid?”

Jono cupped the boy’s chin, closing in on him with a raspy chuckle.  The kid flinched, trying to jerk away, only for Jono’s grip on his jaw to tighten.  He froze, tears spilling down his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation of whatever was about to be done to him.

“Jono!”

Isa shouted at him, clenching his fists and preparing for physical conflict.  “Leave him alone.”

Jono finally dropped his posturing and wheeled around to face Isa, furious over the constant interruptions.  “What’s got into you, Isa? Since when do you care about the targets?”

Isa had no idea why he suddenly felt so protective of this stranger, but something drew him to the red-haired kid and he refused to let Jono toy with him.  Isa was slightly smaller than Jono, but equally intimidating, and the rest of the gang members knew not to mess with him. Thanks to his athletic inclination, it was generally accepted that he was the only kid who could fairly match Jono in combat, and Isa was ready and willing to fight him to save this boy tonight if he had to.  “He’s got no munny, and he’s too scrawny a weakling to be of any use to us. Now let him go.”

The two faced each other, each shifting into a battle stance as the rest of the group circled around them.  Jono rolled up his sleeves, stretching out his joints as his underlings began to cheer. Isa popped his neck and shook the tension out of his hands, just beginning to unzip his jacket when he heard a familiar sound in the distance — a whistle.

“You there!  Kids! What’s all this racket you’re making?!”

“Oh no!  The guards!”

“Crap!  Everybody, scatter!”

The group dispersed quickly, dropping the shivering boy to the ground as they took off in different directions.  Isa made his way toward the kid and lifted him to his feet before dragging him toward a nearby alley. “This way!”

He pulled the boy behind a dumpster where they ducked out of sight, waiting for the guards to pass them by.  When the coast was clear, Isa led the stranger back up to the rundown nook he called his home. They climbed the winding, broken steps and Isa drew back the curtain he used as a front door.  His home was but a single room, filled with whatever belongings he was able to salvage from his mother’s house after she died, along with a collection of still-usable items thrown out by the townsfolk.

Isa beckoned the kid to join him on his bed, a large pile of cushions, pillows, and blankets haphazardly stacked together into a comfortable pit of soft material that kept him quite warm on even the coldest nights.  The boy hesitated at first, but soon collapsed beside him on the mess of bedding, nearly sinking into the deep indentation Isa had left in the center. The two of them rested there together, catching their breaths and wiping sweat from their faces.  Isa glanced over at his guest, examining him for injuries and relieved to see that he was unharmed. “Hey… You okay, kid?”

The kid turned to face his rescuer with a sheepish look, scratching the back of his neck and averting his eyes with embarrassment.  “I’m fine… thanks for—”

“Are you stupid or something?  Listen, it’s dangerous to walk these streets alone, especially at night.  This time it was just Jono’s gang. Next time, it could be worse.”

The boy shuddered, curling inward and hugging his knees to his chest.  “What’s with those guys anyway?”

Isa softened his tone to put the poor kid at ease.  “They won’t actually hurt you. They’re just in it for the munny and the thrills.”

“Are they your friends?”

Isa thought for a moment, remembering that as despicable as they were, Jono’s gang might have been the closest thing to ‘friends’ Isa had now.  He didn’t have anyone else. “Nah. We just hang with the same crowd. I don’t have any friends.”

The boy’s shimmering green eyes glistened at Isa’s words, his face etched with pity and sympathy.  “No friends? Don’t you get lonely?”

Isa had risen to his feet and wandered over to a wooden crate he used as a table.  He had left the collar there earlier, and it caught his eye just in time for his guest’s painful observation.  Loneliness was no longer an adequate term with which to describe the state of Isa’s life. “I take care of myself.  Can’t trust anyone but me.”

Isa picked up the collar, turning away to hide his sorrow.  The metal tags gleamed brightly in the moonlight, the name ‘Gibbous’ flashing across his eyes.  His red-haired acquaintance dropped his head, lowering his voice to a solemn tone. “That’s sad.  Everyone needs a friend…”

Just as his throat grew tight, Isa tossed the collar aside and cut off the sentimental conversation, uncomfortable with the emotions this kid had managed to invoke in him.  “Ugh, don’t get all sappy. Anyway, I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new in town?”

The boy answered shyly, avoiding eye contact.  “I uh… moved here from the suburbs last week…”

That explained why he was so well-dressed.  Isa couldn’t imagine why a family with anything in the bank would relocate to these filthy slums.  “Damn, no wonder Jono picked on you. You’re fresh meat. What’s your name?”

“Lea.”

Even his name sounded cheerful.  Isa liked the simplicity of it. He smiled, rejoining Lea on his nest of blankets to complete the formal introduction.  “My name’s Isa. Anyone gives you any trouble, just mention my name. I’ve got your back.”

Lea returned the offer with a bashful grin, his cheeks flushing until they nearly matched his flashy red hair.  “Th-thank you… Isa…”

Isa swept aside the curtain that covered his window, gazing at the night sky.  It was a clear night with not a single cloud to be seen, giving him perfect visibility for his favorite pastime.  “Whoa, check out the moon… looks like it’ll happen tomorrow night.”

Lea turned around and stared out the window alongside his companion.  “What’ll happen?”

Isa gave him a playful smirk.  “The full moon, of course. Don’t you think the moon is really cool to look at?  It’s got that mysterious glow…”

“I’ve always liked watching sunsets, myself.  But the moon’s nice, too.”

Of course he did.  He was positively the sunniest kid Isa had ever met.  “Sunsets, huh… colorful.”

They silently watched the lights inching across the sky, relaxing on the bed as they stared into the pitch blackness overhead.  Lea’s eyes widened with awe as he took in the breathtaking view. “Wow, the stars are really bright tonight.”

Isa nodded in agreement.  “I’ve heard each star is a new world.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,”  Isa clasped his fingers behind his head and fell lazily onto his back, deep in thought.  “You think there are kids on all those worlds looking at the sky just like we are?”

“Probably.  I wonder what the sky looks like from those other worlds…”

The moon hung directly above their heads, casting its beams right into Isa’s window and illuminating his room with its cool light.  Lea’s eyelids began to fall as he leaned against the crumbling bricks, breathing in the refreshing breeze that brushed against his face.  Isa found it difficult to keep his attention on the moon as his eyes kept wandering to his new acquaintance. It seemed like Lea’s face lit up a little more for every glance Isa managed to steal.  The kid could smile without smiling, and that cheerful expression was contagious. Isa would have to ask him how he does that some time.

“Must be after midnight now.”

Lea’s eyes sprang open and he shot upright with a gasp.  “My parents are gonna kill me…”

“Where do they think you are?”

Lea pursed his lips, avoiding eye contact and wringing his hands.  Isa sat up, pressing him for an answer with a stern look. “Did you run away from home?”

Lea hesitated for several seconds before finally relenting.  “I might have.”

“Why?”

“What's it to you, anyway?”

“Pfft,” Isa scoffed with a shrug.  “I just think you should be grateful that you still have a home and a family.  Not everyone does.”

Lea dropped his guard, sadness creeping into his eyes as he surrendered to Isa’s scolding.  “You… you don’t…?”

“My dad left a little while after I was born.  I never met the bastard. My mom died last year.”

Isa stared blankly at the wall as he summarized his life’s story of grief and woe, hardening his heart as he watched his companion’s face fall with regret.  Lea, lost for words, was quiet for awhile before working up the courage to respond to such a tragic and heart rending tale. “I’m sorry…”

“Shit happens.”

Lea winced empathetically, feeling Isa’s pain as strongly as if it were his own, stabbing through his chest like a rusty spear.  He could think of nothing to say to bring up Isa’s spirits, and he supposed that Isa didn’t want him to. He rose from the bed to make his way home, preparing for the reprimand he’d be getting if his parents discovered that he’d taken off.  In hindsight, it was a stupid, selfish reason to run. Lea had been angry about having to move away from his home and his friends so suddenly, failing to understand that under the circumstances the family simply had no choice. He was young, but he wasn’t too young to understand that his parents loved him and only wanted what was best for their beloved son, and were now likely worried sick about him, wondering where and why he’d gone.  Guilt tugged at him, and he turned one last time toward his kind rescuer, staring out the window with a forlorn expression on his face. Lea flashed him a confident and winsome smile, hoping to at least cheer him up before he left.

“Well, Isa,” Lea spoke with spirited determination.  “You’re not alone anymore. Like it or not, you’ve got a friend now.  Got it memorized?”

Isa couldn’t maintain his stone face for another second.  The light in Lea’s eyes was almost blinding, cutting through the darkness Isa had carried with him for so long with ease.  His smile was captivating. Isa practically melted in its warmth. He stood, eagerly approaching his new friend with a thrilling sense of joy and gratitude he’d not felt in years.

“Come on, Lea.  I’ll walk you home.”

* * *

Isa was still smiling as he opened his eyes.  He’d half expected to be in his old nest again, staring at the moon.  It was a few seconds before the disorientation cleared away and he remembered where he was.  Although he was disappointed to discover that he’d only been dreaming, the warm presence of Lea sound asleep beside him was certainly real.  It took all of his self control not to reach out and touch him, just to indulge in the fantasy for a little while longer.

He rose and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, letting his eyes adjust to the dark.  It was still quite late and he figured he ought to go back to sleep, but something was drawing him to wakefulness.  Being as quiet as possible, he climbed out of bed and dressed, tying his hair back into a messy knot and slipping into his shoes.  Despite the care he took not to make a sound, Lea began to stir.

“Isa…?” Lea moaned sleepily.  “What’s the matter? Where are you going?”

“I‘ll be back, Lea,” Isa whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did you have another nightmare?  Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.  I’m just taking a short walk.  I won’t be long.”

Lea yawned, too tired to argue with him.  “Be careful…”

Lea collapsed onto his pillow again, resuming his snoring almost immediately.  Smirking, Isa stepped out into the hallway and gently pulled the door closed behind him.  He wasn’t sure exactly where to go at this point. He thought about heading back to the woods and seeking out the wolf again.  He thought about checking to see if Master Ansem was still awake and in his library. After much thought and aimless wandering, he decided to check on Demyx.  The musician had been so excited to sleep in a real bed — and was so overwhelmed by the size of Lea’s bedroom — that he vowed to go straight to sleep the second he landed on the mattress.  Isa, however, suspected that Demyx would not fall asleep quite so easily, having a hunch about the poor kid’s condition.

When he reached Lea’s room, his stomach dropped when he discovered that the door was open.  It had been cracked just enough for Isa to peek through and see that the bed was empty. Leaning into the room for a better look confirmed his suspicions: Demyx was gone.

Isa tried not to panic as he searched the castle.  He started with the kitchen, hoping he’d find the man innocently raiding the fridge.  The kitchen and dining areas were deserted, as was the library and the entrance hall. The entire first floor was empty.  Isa checked every common area and found no sign of the musician. Out of options, he left the castle and headed into town.

Isa passed by empty street after empty street before coming to the one on which he’d grown up after his mother’s death.  The building that housed the broken down nook he called his home had finally collapsed when Radiant Garden fell to darkness.  The entryway with the worn staircase that lead to his room was now a pile of rubble, and the window, though still visible, was too high to reach from the outside.  Much time had passed since the fall, but Isa still felt a twinge of sorrow whenever he walked by his old abode. His heart held many years worth of precious memories in that place with Lea, and it saddened him to see that the tiny room in which those memories were made was no more.  Isa had also left a lot of his cherished belongings inside, assuming he’d come back for them someday, but now he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get to them.

He ducked into another alleyway, rats scattering at his every step.  At the end was a large dumpster, overflowing with garbage. Lying on the ground beside it was Demyx, motionless and silent.  Isa bolted to his side, lifting his head and calling to him, praying he would stir.

“Demyx?  It’s Isa.  Can you hear me?”

The man’s eyes were closed, but he was breathing, and Isa had no trouble finding his pulse.  Demyx could barely summon the energy to lift his eyelids, croaking out his response in a hoarse voice.  “Isa…?”

“Are you hurt?”  Isa hastily examined Demyx all over, relieved to find that he hadn’t been injured.  “What did you take, Demyx?”

“I’m gonna throw up…”

With impressive reflexes, Isa turned Demyx’s limp form onto its side so that he wouldn’t choke himself.  Demyx moaned weakly, clutching at his stomach and writhing, gritting his teeth and fighting back the inevitable with what little strength he had left.  Isa gently beat on his back, hoping the light jostling would be enough to trigger the expulsion Demyx so desperately needed. If he was right, there was quite a lot at stake and their time was limited; Demyx couldn’t afford any delays.  The sooner this started, the better.

“Go on, Demyx,” Isa insisted sternly.  “Just do it.”

Demyx finally began to retch forcefully, spilling onto the ground in front of him numerous times in quick succession.  His body trembled visibly and sweat ran down his face and into his bloodshot eyes. Isa held him still and vigorously stroked his back, listening carefully to ensure that he was still breathing between each attack.  He sympathized with his former comrade, all too familiar with the pain he was in, but it eased his mind to know that Demyx was purging the toxins from his body. Isa thanked the stars that he hadn’t been too late.

“That’s good.  Get it all out of your system.  That stuff is poison.”

Demyx clawed at the fabric of his shirt, groaning and crying from the intense nausea and agonizing convulsions in his abdomen.  The vomiting didn’t let up for a second, hardly giving him a chance to catch his breath. “I feel like I’m dying…”

“I know,” Isa whispered softly.  “It will stop soon. It’s a damn good thing this is happening.  That junk doesn’t belong in your body.”

Demyx’s stomach emptied until he produced nothing but dry heaves and sputtering coughs.  “Ughh… why… whyyy…?”

“It’s alright,” Isa gently squeezed Demyx’s arm, pitying the poor man lying helpless in his lap, too weak to fight off his own body’s violent assault.  “Let it run its course.”

Several minutes passed before it finally subsided.  Isa dragged Demyx away from the dumpster and sat him upright against the brick wall.  So intoxicated that his balance was impaired, his young friend wavered in place, threatening to collapse onto the ground again.

“Demyx,” Isa took him by the shoulders and questioned him urgently. “Tell me what you took, and tell me how much.”

Demyx didn’t speak.  He raised a shaking arm and pointed to a nearby pile of empty bottles of varying sizes.  Isa examined the jars, identifying the substances one by one. There was plenty of liquor, along with some narcotics and other sedatives.  It was hard stuff, but it wasn’t recreational. Isa suspected that Demyx was self-medicating.

Although Isa was worried for his friend, he was thankful that Demyx was breathing.  The man was lucky to be alive, given what he’d ingested. “Demyx, you know this could have killed you.”

“Just… wanted to sleep… everything hurts… I couldn’t take it anymore…”

Tears spilled from Demyx’s eyes again.  He clutched at his stomach, hugging his knees to his chest and shivering rapidly.  Isa removed his jacket and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders, sweeping the beads of sweat from his face to prevent him losing any more heat.  His heart sat heavy in his chest with empathy. In his memories were many nights when Isa had been in this very spot, shaking just as hard, vomiting just as profusely, and hating himself just as deeply.  How many times did he promise Lea he would stop before he finally did?

“Isa… how did you know…?”

Isa sighed, dreading this moment when he would have to face more of his shameful past.  “Listen, Demyx… I’ve been where you are. When I was a kid, I got stuck with the wrong crowd and I got caught up in some shady business.  I lived on the streets for quite a while in my teens. I know what you’re feeling now and I can’t stand to watch you endure this alone. Please, let me help.”

Demyx lifted his sunken eyes to Isa, his face etched with pain, fear, and sorrow.  “What do I have to do…?”

“We’ll go to the clinic in town.  There are things they can give you to ease the pain.  Beyond that, you just have to take care of yourself. Address the reasons you felt the need to turn to this in the first place.”

Demyx hung his head in shame, appalled that he’d let himself sink so low.  “I was really lonely… It was cold. The ground was so hard. I just wanted something to not hurt for a few hours…”

Demyx’s throat began to constrict.  He feared he would be sick again, but knew that it was something else entirely that was threatening to explode out of him.  “The nightmares… I couldn’t sleep… I was so tired…”

His eyes welled up again and his voice began to break.  Demyx gave up fighting and dropped his face in his hands.  Isa’s heart ached on Demyx’s behalf. His steady grip on his friend’s shoulder kept him anchored in place and emotionally grounded.  “Demyx, it’s alright. You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand. I just want to help you.”

Demyx wept softly as he lamented the condition he’d managed to put himself in.  He pressed his palms into his temples to quell the pounding in his head, to no avail.  “I’m so confused… I don’t know who I am… I don’t remember anything… Demyx, Number IX… that’s all I have!  Did I have friends? Family? Are they looking for me? Do they think I’m dead? Was I a loser in the old life, too?”

“Demyx…”

“I just got dropped out of the sky alone and with nothing but the shirt on my back!”  Demyx shouted in frustration. “Why? Why didn’t I wake up at home like everyone else?  Did I even have a home?!”

Isa lifted his head by the chin, lowered his voice and spoke with gentle reassurance.  “Demyx, calm down. There will be a time to work through all of this. Right now, you’ve got to come down from this overdose.  Let me take you back to the castle.”

He grasped Demyx by the elbows and carefully lifted him off the ground.  Demyx was unsteady on his feet, wobbling as he tried to stand. Isa ducked under one of his arms, holding him around the waist and supporting his weakened body as he regained his balance.  Demyx let his head hang listlessly off his shoulders, dispirited and ashamed.

“Isa… I really screwed up…”

Isa tugged at Demyx until he took a few steps.  “Come, Demyx. You’ll feel better once you sleep this off.”

They gradually made their way back to the castle, one step at a time.  Demyx required several breaks, and Isa waited patiently until he was ready to walk again.  While catching his breath on a stone bench a few streets away, Demyx turned to his companion, his puffy, bloodshot eyes looking eerily familiar to Isa.

“Isa… why are you helping me…?”

“Because that’s what friends do.”

“You used to hate me…”

Isa shook his head.  “No, Demyx. I used to hate myself.  I just took it out on you. You and everyone else.”

Demyx’s face fell, his gaze cast to the cobblestone beneath them.  “I wish… I’d known…”

Those words struck Isa directly in the center of his chest, puncturing through to the bone.  Had Saïx’s psychological torments left lasting damage on Demyx? Isa couldn’t bear the thought.  Swallowing down his remorse for the time being, he stood and pulled Demyx back to his feet. They continued their trek, eventually making it into the castle where Isa slowly guided Demyx back up the stairs and into Lea’s room.  For over an hour, he forced Demyx to drink glass after glass of water, much to the young musician’s annoyance. Despite his protests, Demyx began to improve as time drew on. His trembling slowed and his nausea dissipated. Color returned to his face and his eyes seemed less sunken and dry.

“Isa, you said that you got mixed up in all this too… tell me the story… I want to know how you got out…”

Isa sighed, steeling himself against the ache of the memories he would have to relive.  “I was homeless, too. My father left us when I was an infant. My mother died when I was twelve.  Even my dog ran away. I had no one and nothing.”

Demyx’s jaw dropped, stunned by the tragedy of Isa’s tale.  “Gosh… that’s really sad…”

“Hard to be sad when you’re just stoned all the time.”

“Yeah…”

Demyx dutifully finished his glass of water, having lost count of how many Isa had made him drink.  Isa refilled it for him and continued his story. “Anyway, I lived in an abandoned building alone. I had no food, no munny, and only the belongings I could carry back from my mother’s house before it was repossessed.  I got involved with a gang of fellow teen boys living in varying degrees of poverty. We robbed innocent townsfolk for our living and terrorized other kids for fun. Being high was the only thing that ever felt good.”

“Damn… you’ve really been through some shit… I had no idea…”

Isa nodded silently, his chest feeling heavy with regret.  “But, pretty shortly, I met Lea. His family moved into town after his father lost his job.  Suddenly, I was happy without the drugs… but addiction is addiction. I tried and failed dozens of times to stop.  Lea was so patient. It took months, and several nights like this one, but I finally did it. If it weren’t for Lea’s help… I’d have died of an overdose long before I ever made it to the Organization.”

Demyx was quiet for a long time as he absorbed Isa’s story.  He remembered the early days in the Organization when Axel and Saïx were very close friends, but he never would have guessed they were anything more than that.  He couldn’t help but feel sad that what sounded like such a beautiful relationship had to end so bitterly. “You and Axel… you really were a thing…”

Isa averted his eyes, concealing his melancholy.  “Yes. We were. But that was a long time ago.”

Unfazed by the notion, Demyx offered a practical suggestion, as if it were the easiest and most logical solution in the world.  “So? Be a thing again.”

“What?”

“You and Axel.  Get together. Hold hands.  Make out a lot.”

“Demyx…”

“Buy lawn furniture.  Have babies. Live happily ever after.”

Isa smirked at the incredulity of Demyx’s suggestions.  “You really are drunk. Since when are you a romantic?”

“I’m a musician!” Demyx insisted, throwing up his hands in disbelief.  “Do you have any idea how many love songs I’ve written?”

“For whom?”

Demyx scratched his head, thinking.  “Well, uh… mostly nobody. My favorite one was written to a sandwich.”

Without warning, Isa began to laugh.  He deeply regretted that he’d not taken the opportunity to befriend the young musician sooner, but was glad to call him a friend now.  Despite the hell he was living in, Demyx clung to positivity in much the same way that Lea would in the face of serious adversity. Isa was pleased to discover that his equally cheerful disposition made his company just as enjoyable.

When their laughter had died down, Isa noticed that a healthy glow had returned to Demyx’s skin.  It wasn’t much, but it was progress. “How are you feeling now, Demyx?”

Demyx was yawning, his eyelids growing increasingly heavy.  “I’m exhausted.”

“You ought to get some sleep.”

“Wait… you mentioned a clinic… Look, I never did like doctors… all those needles and that smell…”

With a sympathetic expression, Isa spoke softly to ease Demyx’s anxiety.  “I won’t press you on this. It’s not a decision I can make for you. But I don’t want you to get hurt.  At least get a basic exam. I’ll go with you if you want.”

Demyx hugged his knees to his chest apprehensively.  Just thinking about the visit made his skin crawl. But he had no choice.  He knew he was in bad shape and would only get worse if he wasn’t evaluated.  He was tired of being in pain anyway. “Okay… okay, I’ll go. It’s just tests, right?”

“Right.  They won’t do anything without your consent.”

“And… you think they’ll help…?”

“They can’t do it for you, but they can make it easier.  They’ll make it hurt less.”

Demyx let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes closed, losing his fight with exhaustion.  Relieved to see that his friend might sleep at last, Isa picked him up off the ground and helped him onto Lea’s bed.  “Go to sleep, Demyx. Sleep for as long as you can. You need it.”

Demyx didn’t move a muscle, sleep already beginning to overtake him.  Just as Isa was heading for the door, Demyx called out to him with a final warning.  “If I have another nightmare, I’m coming to crawl into bed with you two.”

Isa smirked, opening the door and turning out the light.  “Goodnight, Demyx.”

“Isa… Thank you…”

Demyx had a long and difficult journey ahead of him.  Isa should have been overwhelmed at the idea of traveling beside him to ensure that he survived it.  He was nowhere near finished with his own recovery, but somehow he found a sense of peace in caring for Demyx, knowing he was the only companion the poor kid had.  Perhaps he’d discover that he could heal alongside him, overcoming his own obstacles as he pushed Demyx through his. He gently pulled the door closed behind him as he headed back to his own bed, looking forward to the adventure that awaited him in the morning.


	10. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Axel gives Roxas a PSA. Someone special finally comes out of hiding, and they all kick back and reflect on the good old Days.

_Day 24 — Empty_

_I watched the sun come up this morning.  It’s almost as pretty as it looks when it’s going down.  The view isn’t the same as from the clock tower, but seeing it through my window isn’t so bad._

_I didn’t sleep again.  I really did try this time.  Crazy how I can be so tired during the day but then nighttime comes and suddenly I’m wide awake.  But I consider it a blessing. A few nights ago I fell asleep while I was reading on the sofa and I had a terrible nightmare.  I was standing on a beach when a huge tidal wave swelled up and washed me away. I was drowning. I tried to swim to the surface, but my legs wouldn’t work.  I looked down to see that they had turned to ice. The water’s surface froze over and the ice overtook my whole body. The pain felt so familiar and so real. I woke up screaming.  Roxas came running and stayed next to me all night. I felt so bad waking him up. I could tell how tired he was. If I never have to sleep again, I’ll be relieved._

_Axel is coming over today.  I haven’t seen him since we moved to Twilight Town.  We’re all going to watch movies together. Roxas said he used to watch movies when he was living in the simulated Twilight Town.  When he tells me what they were about, I feel like I’ve seen them too, but I can’t really remember when. It’s really been nice to see how happy Roxas is since he came back.  It’s such a relief to see that he’s not in any pain… that he doesn’t have any lingering regrets or trauma. He deserves this. He really does._

_I’ve spent a lot of time talking to Olette.  She’s been really helpful, even though I can tell she’s at a loss.  This is all totally foreign to her. But I appreciate her trying. She likes to have “girl time” together.  She does fancy things with my hair and face. She tries to teach me but I’m just not absorbing any of it. She invites me to go shopping with her but I never have the energy.  What’s really nice, though, is that she’ll usually bring me something back. And it won’t always be something girly like clothes or jewelry. A lot of the time it’s a cool collectable she found in a weird store or a book she thought I’d like.  It’s really nice of her to do that. She’s a really great roommate and friend. I’m lucky to have her around._

_Roxas keeps asking me to go to the clock tower with him and eat sea salt ice cream just like old times.  I always find an excuse not to. It breaks my heart to see him so dejected. It’s not that I don’t want to.  It just… isn’t the same. The sunset isn’t as warm and colorful as it used to be. The ice cream doesn’t taste as sweet.  Everything seems a little dull and gray. I just don’t see a point to doing anything anymore. All that stuff I used to like just seems false now… It wasn’t really me who liked that stuff, it was Sora.  It was Roxas. There was no ‘me’ to begin with. I’ve only ever been a copy of somebody else. Take that somebody away and what’s left behind?_

_It’s almost noon.  Roxas will come to see if I’m awake in a minute or so.  He’ll ask me to come out there and I’ll come up with some reason to stay here in my bed.  He’ll offer me food and I’ll politely refuse. He’ll eventually give up and leave. Why do I do this to him?  Why do I push him away? He just wants to help me. Why do I look at him and feel this… sadness? This sense of unease?  This anger? What reason could I possibly have to fear or resent him? He’s done nothing to me. Nothing but be a good friend.  Why do I keep him at a distance?_

_Useless puppet.  Useless puppet indeed.  I’m hanging on by a thread._

 

There was a knock at her door.  It could only be Roxas. Xion set the notebook down on her nightstand and hastily combed her fingers through her hair so as not to look too disheveled when she greeted him.  “Come in.”

The door opened and Roxas poked his head in, forcing a smile.  “Hey, Xion. Axel will be here soon. Did you want to come out?”

Just as she had predicted, the overbearing weight that hung on her shoulders and followed her everywhere she went like a shadow got the better of her.  “I’m kind of tired… Maybe later.”

Roxas’ face fell with disappointment and concern for his friend.  Taking a chance, he entered the room and joined Xion on her bed, looking at her with sad eyes.  “He misses you. He feels bad that he hasn’t gotten the chance to talk to you in awhile. He, uh… He asks about you.”

“What about his new friend?”

“You mean Isa?”

“So you’re calling him that, too?”

Roxas recoiled sheepishly at her sharp tone.  “Well, that is his name…”

Feeling guilty for snapping at him, Xion’s voice softened.  “In that face, I’m not sure I can see anybody other than Saïx.”

Roxas was quiet for a long while after that.  He knew Xion would need time. He was patient and allowed her to take as much as she needed.  He didn’t blame her for her feelings about Isa and had no intention of rushing her through her healing process.  Still, he was conflicted. Roxas cared very deeply for Axel, and had only come around to the idea of accepting the man because he was so special to him.  In the end, he was thrilled that he gave Isa a chance. It was rewarding to get to know the guy he was before Xemnas turned him into Saïx. Roxas only wanted Xion to feel the same sense of relief and peace that he did.

“The other day… Xion, you should have seen him.  He was smiling and laughing. He invited Demyx to go live with them in Radiant Garden so he wouldn’t be homeless.  He _hugged him._  He’s not the same guy, Xion.  I know how hard it is to believe…”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“How can you see it if you won’t even look?”

Backed into a corner, Xion turned away, pursing her lips.  Try as she might, she simply couldn’t bring herself to refer to the man as anything other than Saïx.  She was shocked that Roxas had managed to adjust so quickly. Saïx had been no more kind to him than he was to her.  Every memory she had of him was of being berated, or of seeing Roxas receive the same treatment. At times it seemed he went out of his way to antagonize them.  Even Axel wasn’t spared from his hostility. In the end, all three of them struck him down in disgrace, and she’d hoped that would have been the end of it.

Xion vividly recalled that last day in the Keyblade Graveyard.  She and Roxas had shared a determined nod, brandishing their weapons and staring down Saïx in his beastly form, ready to tear him to pieces.  There was a fire in Roxas’ eyes. A hunger. He was ferocious. His anger and adrenaline fueled him to where he could feel no pain. He was relentless as he took his revenge for all the heartache and misery Saïx had caused them both.  He showed the man not one ounce of mercy. Even as Saïx stood there, motionless, surrendering to his punishment, Roxas did not waver. Where was all that anger now?

“Did you forgive him, Roxas?”

Roxas paused for a moment in thought.  “Not right away. I knew his apology was genuine and his emotions were sincere.  But I had to see a lot more than one crying spell to be convinced.”

“What did it take?”

Roxas smiled warmly, “It was Axel.”

“How so?”

Roxas stood and meandered toward the window.  He slid the curtains open a few inches, invigorated by the sunlight that poured into the room.  “Axel gleams when he talks about Isa. When they’re together you can see his face just… shine. And maybe that would have been enough to get my attention, but what really floored me was seeing Isa’s face do the same thing.”

When Roxas had first seen Isa, he kept his distance from everyone, who in turn gave the man a wide berth.  He sat in corners and hid in shadows, keeping his head down and avoiding all human contact. When he and Axel had come to visit the other day, he already seemed more animated, but still reserved.  As they roamed the streets, chatting up a storm, Isa had remained silent, following behind them with his hands in his pockets, as if he were afraid to intrude on their conversation. As if he had no place there beside them.  He seemed lost and sad, and Roxas didn’t know what to make of him at the time. Was _that_ the guy Axel was so crazy about?  Perpetually broody and forlorn, in sharp contrast to Axel’s cheerful disposition?  There had to be more to him than all the doom and gloom he wore on his face. Roxas had to know what Axel saw in him.

Roxas stole the opportunity to escape into a shop and disappear behind a shelf in the back to watch the two interact from afar.  To his surprise, Isa transformed almost instantly the second he and Axel were alone. His eyes were wider and gentler. Some color barely shaded his cheeks.  There was a subtle lift to all of his features as Axel excitedly gushed about the basket of stones. He’d let down his guard, and it was the first time Roxas had ever seen him looking so _bright._

“Every morning, Saïx greeted us with that same cold frown he always had.  But to see that face finally go soft like that… I got chills. That guy isn’t Saïx.  Not anymore. He’s a completely different person. And he’s happy, Xion. The _real_ happy.”

Isa donned several more expressions throughout the afternoon.  The pity and empathy at seeing Demyx on the street. The amused grin in response to the jokes at the bistro table.  The obviously powerful affection he clearly held for Axel, but was suppressing to maintain his reserved demeanor. There was far more to Isa than there ever was to Saïx.  Axel _shared a bed_ with this man.  Clearly, he was worthy of at least an ounce of patience.

“Maybe it’s more sensible to go on resenting him for what he did.  Maybe that’s what he deserves. I don’t know.  But I can’t force myself to stay mad at a guy who makes Axel smile the way he does now.  I tried. It felt more _right_ and _just_ to still be angry.  But it just feels _better_ to let it all go and move on with my life.”

Xion hugged her knees to her chest, still averting her gaze from Roxas.  He could babble her ears off all day about how endearing it was to see Saïx grow a heart and turn into a cute, cuddly teddy bear if it helped him sleep at night, but Xion knew better.  Xion saw a darker side of Saïx that even Roxas hadn’t seen. She could remember the first time she saw his face. She had just been removed from the holding tank she’d been floating in during the final stages of her construction.  She sat crumpled on the freezing tile floor, naked and soaking wet, shivering from the cold and staring up into his haunting yellow eyes. Her mind was empty, but in that moment she had produced her first thought. _This man frightens me._  He spoke not a word as he tossed her a black coat and turned away, his expression one of disgust and contempt.

Roxas, unfazed by her avoidance, wrapped up his explanation, knowing full well that she was listening.  “Besides… what kind of friend would I be if I had made Axel choose? I couldn’t tear him apart like that.”

Xion finally turned to Roxas, clinging tightly to her grudge and muttering bitterly.  “You’re a better person than I am, Roxas. I’m not sure I can just drop it so easily.”

“It wasn’t easy.  It took time. It took work.  And when I talked to Axel the other day, I figured out that even I’m not totally better yet.  I still have some resentment buried deep inside me too. So it’s okay if you still hurt. I get that.  But… your friends miss you, Xion. If you’re hurting, let us help.”

Xion’s face began to pinch with emotion, her eyes burning with the threat of tears.  She wished so desperately that she could ask for help. She wished that she knew how.  She willed herself to reach out and allow herself to be rescued from the dark void she’d been sinking into, but she simply couldn’t summon the courage to extend her hand.  Why? What was she so afraid of?

Roxas could see clearly the pain etched into her brow.  He felt it with her. It wasn’t a sharp stab to the chest like one might expect.  It was a slow burn, eating away at him from the inside. He felt it in his core, spreading like a virus through to his extremities.  So consumed was he by the heaviness of the moment that Roxas almost didn’t hear the sound of the knocking coming from the kitchen. Jolted back to reality, he quickly rose from the bed to greet their guest.

“That’s Axel.  What do you want me to tell him?”

He waited a beat for a response, but when it was clear that Xion wouldn’t speak again, he quietly left the room and hurried to the front door.  Axel was waiting on the other side, and he smiled brightly when Roxas opened it. “Roxas! This is a nice place you’ve got here!”

“Hey, Axel.  Come on in.”

Roxas invited Axel inside where he scanned the room, examining the architecture and complimenting the kids on their decor.  The place was arranged according to a combination of the occupants’ unique styles, giving it an adventurous atmosphere. There were multicolored lights strung haphazardly along the walls and ceiling, emitting a warm glow in the dark of twilight.  There was a collection of exotic plants on every window sill, blooming colorfully as they climbed along the glass panes. The mismatched furniture and light clutter on the surfaces gave the place a comforting, lived-in feel. Axel hoped that if he could one day have a place of his own, it would look like this.

“So, is Xion here?”  The two settled on the sofa, relaxing into its fluffy plaid cushions as their conversation deepened.

Roxas shifted in his seat, staring at the floor.  “She’s, uh… she’s taking a nap.”

He didn’t want to look at Axel.  He didn’t want to see him disappointed again.  He rushed to placate him, wishing he had a better answer.  “I tried… but, she at least knows you’re out here.”

Axel nodded with an understanding smile.  “We can let her have her space, if that’s what she needs.  Remember, you gotta be ready for anything. She could flip in a heartbeat.”

Roxas smiled back at him with gratitude and relief.  It was a welcome change of tone to spend time with Axel again.  His laid-back and jovial personality brought some light back into the darkness that had spread through Roxas’ home.  He cared very much for Xion, but could admit to himself that it was difficult to maintain a positive attitude in the midst of her depression.  He hated thinking that. It wasn’t Xion’s fault that she was struggling. Axel had told him that feelings don’t need a reason and cannot be controlled.  Roxas believed it was his duty as her friend to stay by her side and support her no matter how hard it might be. It felt selfish to concern himself with his own mild discomfort.

“So, how’s Demyx?  Did he like his new bed?”

Axel’s eyes fell and he appeared uneasy.  “He seems to now. It took some doing…”

“What happened?” Roxas was confused and concerned.  When he last saw Demyx, the man was elated by the prospect of just getting to sleep indoors.  “Is he okay?”

“Well, Roxas…” Axel struggled for words, appearing to battle with himself over how to approach this topic.  “Man, I can’t decide if you’re ready for this talk…”

“What talk?”

Axel scratched the back of his neck, cringing as he put his answer together.  “So… Demyx got pretty sick the other night. Isa got up to check on him and he wasn’t in his bed.  Wasn’t even in the castle. He was found barely conscious in the street, huddled up to a dumpster. Isa brought him back to the castle and he’s been sleeping ever since.”

Roxas’ jaw dropped at this news.  Demyx appeared to be a bit tired and shaken, but Roxas never would have guessed the man was so seriously ill.  “Gosh… what happened to him? Was it the bistro food?”

“No, no, Roxas… Demyx, uh… Demyx overdosed.  Basically, he took way too much medicine and almost died.”

Now Roxas was very confused.  He had little experience with medicine in his short life, the closest thing he’d ever used being the potions he took along on missions.  They utilized an unknown magic power to promote healing of combat-related injuries, and Roxas had drank plenty of them in his Organization days.  As far as he knew, one could drink as many of them as they wanted and the most they’d have to worry about would be a slightly upset stomach. Roxas couldn’t fathom why something that was designed to heal could possibly be deadly.

“But how?  Why? I don’t understand…”

Axel sighed heavily, having secretly wished Roxas would never have to be exposed to such tragic circumstances as these.  “Roxas, sometimes people have this problem where they are hurting in some way and they take medicines to fix it. Some of those medicines might be perfectly fine as long as you don’t take too much.  But if you hurt bad enough, you might go a little overboard. Then you get used to that amount and it doesn’t help anymore, so you take more. The cycle continues until the day your body decides you’ve had too much.  It’s toxic. It’s poison. You die.”

The more Axel explained, the more questions Roxas had.  If this was the case, why would anyone ever ‘go overboard?’  If the consequence for taking too much of the medicine was death, it made no sense that anyone would choose to take such a risk, no matter how much pain they might be in.  “Why risk it then? Why take too much if you know you might die?”

“Well… drugs can hook you in.  Whether you started out truly needing them for a legitimate medical reason or you started taking them for fun, you can eventually get so hopelessly addicted that you can’t even function without them.  You’re completely dependent on that stuff and if you don’t get it, you feel like you’re dying anyway. It’s painful and scary.”

In all the time Roxas had known Demyx, he seemed content and carefree.  Knowing that the man was actually hiding some secret pain so severe that he took drastic measures like this to relieve it broke Roxas’ heart.  “So… Demyx is addicted to that stuff?”

“Probably.  Living on the streets can do that to you, Roxas… Imagine sleeping on the ground in the cold every night and not knowing when your next meal will be.”

“It makes sense…”

Axel hastily backtracked, realizing there was a lesson to be learned and hoping Roxas would understand it.  “I’m not saying you should go do drugs when life gets hard! But, when a person is really deeply hurting and they don’t have the right resources, it can be tempting to turn to those substances to make the pain stop.  You can get desperate. It’s tragic, really. But there’s help. There are ways to get off those drugs. It’s hard work, but it can be done, and those people can go on to live normal lives.”

Upon seeing the concern on Roxas’ face, Axel smiled and patted him on the back.  “The good news is that Demyx has already taken the first couple of steps. He _wants_ to get better.  Isa is taking him to the doctor in a couple of days.  It might take some time, but I think Demyx is going to be alright.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

There was a gap in the conversation where Roxas appeared to be lost in thought.  Axel was twisting his head around, examining the decorations and trinkets all over the room.  In a way, it reminded him of his own childhood bedroom. The room was dimly lit and cozy, movies and games were piled lopsidedly on a shelf, a row of books sat clearly untouched and collecting dust on another shelf, toys and collectors items stood on display on one wall while posters hung on another… Axel was awash in nostalgia just looking at the place.  His teen years were full of such wonderful memories, and he was thrilled that Roxas’ would be too.

His fond recollection was interrupted by another question from Roxas, asked quietly in a meek voice.  “You mentioned… that it’s usually people who are hurting who use drugs to feel better. Do you mean hurting physically?  Or… hurting in their heart?”

Axel turned to him, trying to read his expression.  “Both. Pain is pain, and those substances can make it feel better, at least temporarily.”

“So… if someone was sad all the time… they might use some drugs to feel happier?”

Axel’s stomach dropped.  Now he understood what was on Roxas’ mind.  His eyes widened, but he froze in an effort to conceal his alarm.  “Roxas… I see what you’re asking. Are you worried? Have you seen any signs?”

Roxas shook his head, “No… I’m just worried because nothing else is working…”

Axel collapsed in relief.  He wrapped an arm around Roxas and gripped his shoulder supportively as he reassured him.  “Give it some more time, Roxas. Don’t give up. She’ll come around. Demyx was all alone and had no one to turn to when things got tough.  Xion has us.”

With another brotherly squeeze around the shoulders, Axel smiled warmly at Roxas, intent on cheering him up.  When Roxas smiled back, Axel released him, glad that his efforts had proved fruitful. Roxas picked up the remote and flipped aimlessly through the channels on the television in silence while Axel peered through a nearby magazine with curiosity.  It appeared to be an educational publication about nature and history, and this issue was largely dedicated to some ancient creatures who supposedly dominated the world where Twilight Town once stood, only to have been wiped out by an unknown cause some millions of years in the past.  Fascinated, Axel admired the photos with realistic-looking representations of what scientists thought the creatures may have looked like. Some had thick, scaly skin while others had long fur. Some had enormous, sharp teeth while others had beaks. Some had long claws while others had powerful-looking hooves.  Axel guessed this magazine must have belonged to Pence. This weird stuff was right up his alley.

“Hi, Axel.”

The familiar voice startled him and he whipped his head around to see Xion standing a few feet away and smiling shyly at him.  “Xion! You’re awake!”

Axel jumped out of his seat and raced over to draw her into a tight hug.  She reciprocated, albeit with some apprehension. Axel beamed at her when they parted, happy that she had decided to join them after all.  “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

“I’m alright… sorry I haven’t kept in touch lately…”

“Hey, no worries,” he grinned, pressing a finger to his temple.  “I know you didn’t forget about me.”

They walked back to the sofa together, watching the pictures flash by as Roxas scrolled through with the remote.  It was the first time Axel had gotten to look at Xion in awhile. She wore loose sweats, and her dark hair was unwashed and hanging in her face.  Her eyes were puffy and sunken and her skin was slightly pale. She looked tired, and Axel could see how much energy it cost her to come out and see him.  Despite how draining it appeared to be, Axel was thrilled that she’d come out of her room, and could clearly see how happy she was to have done so. He had really missed her.

Hoping to stretch Xion’s good mood a bit farther and see if he could coax her out of the house, Axel surprised the two of them with a plan he had made up on the fly, paying no mind to whether or not he could follow through with it.  “I was just telling Roxas that I wanted to have a get-together in the next few days in Radiant Garden. We were gonna invite those folks from the Land of Departure, too! It’ll be a blast!”

“You mean, uh… Aqua, Terra… and Ventus?”

“That’s right,” Axel nodded as he talked himself into a corner.  “We haven’t seen them in awhile so I figured they could come party with us.”  His lips then curled into a mischievous grin, “Besides, it’s funny when you put Roxas and Ventus next to each other.”

Roxas stopped clicking the remote and glared at him with terrifying intensity.  Axel recoiled, giggling as he playfully patted Roxas on the top of the head. “Truce!  I’m just playing!”

“One of these days,” Roxas growled.  “We’re going to switch places and none of you are going to have any idea.  Then we’ll see who gets the last laugh.”

“Ha!” Axel snorted.  “Oh, Roxas, I’ll always be able to tell you apart.  I’ve got your face memorized!”

“Oh yeah?  Memorize _this_!”

Roxas tossed down the remote and tackled Axel to the floor.  Axel certainly had an advantage in size and restrained himself in an effort to keep the match fair, but Roxas was feisty and determined, overpowering his much older and larger friend with ease.  The two wrestled for a few minutes, narrowly missing the nearby pieces of furniture that would have toppled over if they’d been kicked. Every time it looked like there was a victor, the squabbling boys rolled over and turned the tables with a sudden upset.  Finally, pinned in a headlock, Axel waved his arms in surrender to Roxas.

“Okay!  Okay! You win!  Uncle! Uncle!”

In fits of laughter, Roxas stood and gave Axel a hand up from the floor.  The two collapsed back onto the couch, wiping sweat off their faces and catching their breaths.  They laughed until their eyes watered, and Roxas took notice of Xion giggling into her palm alongside them.  It was the most beautiful sight he had seen in weeks.

“Hey, Xion… you’re laughing.”

It was a few seconds before she was able to speak, dropping her hand and revealing the huge smile on her face.  “You two are ridiculous. Like a couple of rowdy brothers.”

Axel threw an arm around her shoulders.  “Well, Xion, how about it? Come to the party?”

They were still while they awaited Xion’s answer.  She had missed her friends so much. It had been days, weeks, perhaps months since she had felt as happy as she did in this moment.  While she watched the two wrestling on the carpet, she was able to forget about the ache that plagued her mind and heart. The heaviness was lifted off of her and she could finally breathe.  She savored the nostalgia — this moment was truly just like old times. If it meant she’d get to see more of these two, she would gladly go wherever they asked.

“All right.  I’ll come along.  It sounds like fun.”

Axel was so happy he could have kissed her.  He pulled her in for another embrace, squeezing her tightly with a wide grin on his face.  Xion’s heart leapt at the sight of her two best friends smiling so vibrantly at her. Roxas, who had been digging through a bin near the television, brought over a handful of movies and laid them out on the floor, describing each one briefly.  “Okay, here are the options. This one is a horror film. This one is a musical. This one is a low-budget sci-fi flick. Hayner promises they’re all _hilariously_ bad.”

Axel nudged Xion gently with his elbow.  “Xion, which one do you think?”

She inspected the boxes closely.  One of them had a picture of a rugged space marine and his bumbling alien sidekick posing in front of a mysterious space station and was called _Deep Galactic._  The second one, _Unblended,_ showed an artistically filtered photo of an attractive young woman staring blankly into the distance while a kitchen appliance loomed enormously in the background.  The last one, titled _Canines_ featured an image of dancers posing dramatically, dressed as silly-looking, humanoid dogs that took themselves far too seriously.  Roxas wasn’t kidding — they all looked terrible.

“Hm, my vote is for the musical.”

“All right!  Are you folks ready for your ears to bleed?”

They ended up watching all three movies, cringing at the awkwardness and laughing hysterically at the goofy, mediocre performances.  They ate pizza, drank soda, and made jokes well into the evening. Some hours later, after it had gotten dark, they switched to a series of blockbuster fantasy films to which they barely paid any attention, their eyes glazed over from so much time spent in front of the screen.  Axel was splayed out in the middle of the couch with an arm around Xion while Roxas was curled up beside him and resting his head on his lap, snoring with his mouth open. Axel chuckled, nudging his young friend gently, but Roxas did not stir.

“Welp, he’s out cold.”

“He’s been working long hours,” Xion explained softly.  “I’m not surprised.”

Axel closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the cushion.  Xion, as expected, was now feeling wide awake as she watched her two friends succumb to exhaustion.  She shifted in her seat, eventually scooting away from him, hugging her arms around herself and shivering, though she was not cold.  Axel picked his head back up, turning to her with a concerned look. “What’s up?"

Xion had avoided the topic all evening, but if she was to keep her word about visiting them in Radiant Garden, she needed to know.  “Your… friend is going to be at that party… isn’t he?”

Axel raised an eyebrow.  “Isa? Yeah… he generally goes where I go.”

Xion said nothing more about it for several minutes, pretending to be engrossed in the film, but the longer she stared vacantly at the screen, the more obvious it was that she was not watching.  Axel opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again when he realized he didn’t know what to say. He figured he ought to just keep quiet and avoid the risk of saying the wrong thing. But, seeing the anxiety clench around his friend’s heart was too much to bear.  He pressed her, hoping she wouldn’t resent him for prying.

“Do you want to talk about him?”

Xion didn’t budge.  She didn’t even acknowledge that she had heard him.  So many seconds passed that Axel wondered if she’d somehow fallen asleep with her eyes open.  Finally, she began in an almost unrecognizably low voice. “I’m not sure which was worse… the days in the Organization when he treated me like dirt… or the days in the Real Organization when he completely ignored me.”

Her memories were getting the better of her.  She tried to push them away, but they flooded right back.  In the old Organization, people would at least talk to her.  Her comrades, likely having no idea that she was a replica, at least treated her like a person.  She at least had Axel and Roxas. As long as her friends were there, Saïx couldn’t really bother her, usually.  In the Real Organization, she had no one. No friends. Not one of her fellow Chosen spoke a word to her. The loneliness was enough to nearly drive her mad.

“He wouldn’t even acknowledge when I was in the room.  He wouldn’t look at me. I’d talk to him and he wouldn’t respond.  It’s like I was invisible. Even on that last day, when we had to fight alongside each other… nothing.  Not a word. I asked him if he had a plan and he didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at the ground, motionless.  You and Kairi showed up and I waited for him to give me an instruction, suggest a strategy, draw his weapon, _anything._ But, still nothing.  Just more silence, even as the two of you were coming right at us.”

Axel winced as the image flashed in his eyes.  On that day, although Kairi pep-talked him all the way down the halls to the battlefield, he hated what he was about to do.  He froze at the door, dreading the encounter that awaited him on the other side.

_“Just go in, Axel.  Remember, you’re doing this for him…”_

_“I can’t do it…”_

_“He needs you.  This is the only way to bring him back…”_

There was a time when Kairi reminded Axel of Xion, but now Xion was reminding Axel of Kairi.  Her absence stung like a thorn. The two girls shared incredible patience for him, despite how little he deserved it after all he’d done to them.  He swallowed down the lump in his throat, kicking himself for waiting so long to let Xion say her piece.

“When I got my memories back… When I remembered all the things he did to me… I thought it would feel better to finally turn my keyblade on him.  I was angry and determined, and together, me and Roxas were going to _wreck_ him for what he did to us.  I was _so ready_ , Axel…”

Xion’s frail body shook with emotion as she relived that final battle, experiencing all of those emotions for a second time.  Her voice quivered as she recounted the events of that day. “But… it felt awful fighting him. He just stood there looking sad.  Tired. That was my moment for revenge, and it wasn’t satisfying at all. It just left a bitter taste in my mouth. It felt wrong.  And it shouldn’t have. I deserved that vengeance. I deserved that victory. It would have been _just_ and _fair_.”

Axel cautiously laid a hand on her shoulder, trying and failing to conceal the sadness in his voice.  “Sometimes what’s just and fair isn’t what’s right. And sometimes getting your well-deserved revenge doesn’t feel good.”

Xion’s chest began to flutter.  Not with anxiety, but with something much more potent.  It was hot, like a kettle boiling over. Anger. Anger so fierce that it surged through her body like magma, scalding everything it touched.  Of all the things Saïx had done to her, denying her that satisfying retribution felt like the most cruel of them all. As she watched him bleeding out onto the sand, whispering his sob story while Axel ate it up filled her with rage.  Tears burned in her eyes as she fought off the twinge of sympathy — a remnant of Sora, no doubt — while he crouched in front of them, playing the part of the heartbroken, abandoned victim. In that moment, the compassion she had unwittingly inherited disgusted her.   _How dare you take this from us.  How dare you make this about you.  How dare you make us feel sorry for you!_

Just as her fury threatened to erupt, she bit back the impulse, pleading with her friend for some semblance of relief.  “Axel… Saïx treated me as though I was beneath contempt. He was ruthless. He was abusive. I don’t really believe that he saw me as just a faceless puppet.  There had to be more to it than that. If you know something, Axel, please… tell me. Tell me there was a better reason than that.”

Axel would have given anything to put her mind at ease.  Her suffering was palpable. He could see how badly she wanted — how badly she _needed_ closure.  She couldn’t put this to rest until she had an answer, and Axel could only sigh and shake his head, disappointing her again.  “I’m sorry, Xion… he hasn’t told me anything.”

Xion thought back to the day they had gone to Radiant Garden with Axel.  She knew the whole way there that they were going to see Saïx, but she still felt woefully unprepared once she stepped onto the cobblestones leading up to the castle doors.  She and Roxas sat on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard in silence, neither one of them having any idea how to express how hopelessly terrified they were to be there.

It was Ienzo who had come out to invite her and Roxas inside the castle.  They’d lost track of how much time had passed as they relaxed outside, summoning the fortitude to face the man Axel called his best friend.  When he came out of the research lab, he was still wearing the coat. He still had the scar. He still looked like Saïx. But he was different.  He looked feeble — pale and gaunt, and with swollen, bloodshot eyes. He’d been crying. His face was filled to the brim with raw emotion. He looked _weak._ He froze when he saw them, and they too were paralyzed.  Axel quickly led him away before he broke down again. Xion pitied him — much to her own chagrin — but couldn’t help feeling just a tiny glimmer of that long-overdue satisfaction, seeing for the first time how the mighty had finally fallen.   _How’s that feel being the broken one now, Saïx?_

Xion clenched her fists, whipping around to face Axel directly, unable to contain the tears welling up in her eyes.  “I don’t understand, Axel. I don’t understand how it can all just be okay now. How we can all just pretend nothing ever happened?”

Axel flinched, unprepared for the outburst, but at the same time not at all surprised by it.  This conversation had been a long time coming. “We’re not pretending, Xion. Isa has been going through and trying to correct every mistake he made with the Organization.  He’s been setting things right, little by little, all while adjusting to being human again after living as a broken half-Xehanort hellbeast for a decade. All he wants now is to be a better person.”

Axel softened slightly, remembering his promise to himself not to take sides or be stuck in the middle.  He was close to Isa — there was no denying that. But he was close to Roxas and Xion, too. His goal was to bring all of his friends together in peace, and he had to be gentle with Xion if he wanted to make that happen.  “Look, I’m a little biased. I grew up with the guy. But I promise you, there was no abrupt ‘all is forgiven’ moment that wasn’t earned. Not even from me. Isa is working hard for his redemption, just as he should be. No one went easy on him.  He knows forgiveness isn’t free. As far as I’m concerned, he at least deserves some credit for _trying_ to fix everything he broke.”

Roxas had begun to stir, moaning and shifting in his sleep.  Axel and Xion held their breaths, hoping they hadn’t disturbed him.  To their combined relief, he rolled himself over, finally off of Axel’s leg, and dozed off again.  They watched him for a bit, having run out of words for the moment. Roxas had set an example that no one could hope to follow.  He was a well-known hothead, that much was certain, and most knew not to get on his bad side. But at the same time, he carried with him a deep sense of compassion — likely a trait he could attribute to Sora as well.  Despite what he’d been through, Roxas endeavored to enjoy his life so passionately that he gladly discarded anything that hindered him in that pursuit. If that meant casting off his bitterness toward a former nemesis, he did so without a second thought.  Xion aspired to that level of patience and understanding.

“Is there a line?”

“Hmm?”

“Are there people who are beyond redemption?  Are there atrocities too heinous to forgive?”

Axel thought for a moment.  They had all seen their fair share of villains.  Above them all, Xehanort, and by association, Xemnas, were responsible for more suffering than anyone Axel had ever known.  If anyone would be considered unworthy of forgiveness, he supposed Xehanort would be that person. And yet, Xehanort was visited by the spirit of an old friend in his dying moments, and his soul went peacefully to rest with him.  Was that forgiveness? Was that redemption? Axel had no idea. “That’s a question for philosophers and holy men. I’m grossly underqualified to answer it. But I can tell you my opinion, and I think that it’s different for everyone.”

“So there’s no objective standard.”

“Not really.  I think you get to decide for yourself what you personally feel like you can forgive and what you can’t.”

Roxas whimpered again, stretching his arms and yawning widely for a few seconds before letting himself fall onto Axel’s shoulder and drifting back to sleep.  Axel snorted, impressed by how heavily Roxas could snooze through their entire conversation. When he noticed that Xion was giggling too, he reached for her, taking her hand and just waiting there, relishing the moment.  Her fingers were cold and trembling, and he warmed them in his own. She broke into a tearful smile, which he returned. Together at last. All three of them. Nothing could break this bond now.

When he finally worked up the courage to ask, he gave voice to the only request he had for her.  “Hey… Xion, listen… You don’t have to forgive Isa. You don’t have to be his friend. You don’t even have to talk to him.  But, I’m asking you this as a friend… would you at least hear what he has to say?”

Xion hesitated.  She searched inward for even the smallest shred of the same compassion that her two friends boasted.  She conjured up that image of Saïx exiting Ansem’s research lab, leaning heavily on Axel with his head hanging in shame.  She had pitied him at first. Before anything else, for just a brief moment, she felt sorry for him. It was automatic. Instinctual.  Maybe that was the fragment of Sora left inside her heart, maybe it was a glimmer of Kairi’s light, Xion didn’t know. But the sympathy was there, no matter how hard she tried to disregard it.  Xion held tightly to that feeling. She remembered Roxas telling her how happy Axel was, and now she was seeing it firsthand. It warmed her heart to see the light in his eyes. She clung to that warmth, a comfort only Axel could provide.  All she had to do was listen. She didn’t even have to look at the man if she didn’t want to. She just had to hear his words. She owed Axel that much. “Yes… I will.”

Axel squeezed her fingers, beaming at her with gratitude.  “Thank you, Xion. That means a lot to me.”

They returned their attention to the film that had been playing in the background.  Axel couldn’t even tell how far into the story they were. There were two characters he didn’t recognize who appeared to be traveling, as if on some sort of quest, but their conversation was full of fantasy jargon that made no sense and neither Axel nor Xion could follow a word of it.  Axel had heard that this film was based on a novel and wondered if perhaps one had to read it to understand anything that was happening.

“Gosh, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.  Who are those guys? What are they doing?”

Xion shook her head in disbelief.  “After all this time, they’re still just walking up the mountain.  How long is this movie?”

“ _Way_ too long.  No wonder Roxas fell asleep.  How did these films get so popular?”

“Olette says the books are better.”

Xion leaned her head on Axel’s other shoulder, and he instinctively wrapped his arm around her.  Sooner or later, he was going to have to go back to Radiant Garden. Isa hadn’t been left alone overnight yet and would be needing him.  But, for the moment, everything was too perfect. Roxas and Xion were back. Just like old times, they’d spent the day together, talking and laughing and _being happy_.  They cracked jokes.  They ate junk food. They discussed the hard stuff.  It was every bit like the evenings they’d spent on the clock tower, ice cream and all.  Sitting here with the two of them again, after all this time, Axel finally understood some of the things Roxas had said back in those days.  Their talks about friendship, love, memories, and those closely-held cherishables one couldn’t bear to lose… Finally, it all made sense.

_I hope we can always be just like this, forever…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos. This chapter is one that I spent over two weeks perfecting. Xion is a very beloved and special character, and I wanted to do right by her.


	11. Baby Steps: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa takes Demyx to the doctor, hurt/comfort ensues, and it's actually pretty cute.

Somewhere buried deep inside him, Isa had hoped that he might never have to sit in this room again.  It wasn’t like the place provoked any anxiety; the walls were painted a soft robin’s egg blue color, accented with a row of white flowers along the trim, and the lighting was subdued and relaxing in contrast to the harsh fluorescent glare one might expect in such a place.  No, it was simply that if one found themselves in this room, rarely did a pleasant experience follow. Isa knew it all too well.

Simple maroon chairs lined the walls, most empty, but a few occupied by people of varying ages.  There was a young girl who coughed uncontrollably into a handkerchief while a middle-aged woman, supposedly her mother, sat beside her with worry on her face.  There was an old man with a cane who appeared to be asleep. There was a young, heavily pregnant woman surrounded by four more children under the age of five. There was a teenage boy with tear streaks on his face clutching his considerably swollen arm.  Beside him was another boy of similar age, holding a skateboard and looking guilt-stricken. Isa fixed on the two boys for a moment, struck briefly by a memory from his past with Lea.

_ “Oww… It really hurts… What if they can’t fix it?” _

_ “They’ll fix it.  Just don’t move around.  Keep the ice on it.” _

_ “You promise I’ll get a red cast?” _

_ “I promise you’ll get the brightest red cast they have.” _

“Mr. Demyx?”

A petite, friendly-looking woman with dark hair pulled into a tight bun and carrying a clipboard emerged from the door on the other end of the room.  She had a warm smile on her face as she scanned the room for her patient. Demyx sat fidgeting in his seat, making no outward reaction to the sound of his name.  Isa nudged him, knowing full well he had heard her. “All right, Demyx. It’s your turn.”

Demyx braced himself in his chair, “You’re going to come with me, right?”

“They only allow family in there with you.”

“I can tell them you’re family!  You want to be my brother? Uncle?  Husband?”

Seeing the interaction, the friendly nurse approached the two, her eyes glistening with compassion.  Isa stood and tugged at Demyx’s sleeve, coaxing him out of his seat. “Pull it together, Demyx. You’ll be fine.  Now go.”

With an audible gulp, Demyx turned to face the nurse, who bowed her head politely and gestured for him to follow her to the door.  “If you’re ready, Mr. Demyx, you can follow me.”

“Wait!  Isa…”

Demyx caught Isa by the arm and refused to let go.  Isa sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Don’t make me go in there alone!”

The nurse leaned in and addressed Isa in a low voice.  “Is it his first time?”

Isa made several gentle attempts to free himself from Demyx’s grasp, only for the skittish musician to tighten his grip.  “Yes, I’m not sure he’s ever seen a doctor.”

“And you are…?”

“I’m a friend.  He has no family.”

The nurse raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconvinced, but quickly relented.  “All right, you can come in with him. We’d rather our patients be comfortable for their first visit.”

The nurse led the two of them through the door and down the hallway toward an old fashioned clinic-grade scale.  It took another nudge from Isa, but Demyx stood on the metal platform without much fuss. The number was alarmingly small — Isa could bench press him if he wanted to.  After scribbling the measurements on her clipboard, the nurse directed the two to a nearby exam room with blinding white walls. Isa shuddered as he stepped inside, likening the decor to that of the Castle That Never Was.

“Okay, Mr. Demyx, can I see your arm?”

Demyx sat quietly on the metal table, still refusing to release Isa’s sleeve.  He recoiled when the nurse reached for him. “What are you going to do to it?”

“I’m going to test your blood pressure.  It won’t hurt at all.”

The nurse completed a series of preliminary tests, which Demyx obediently submitted to, albeit apprehensively.  She noted every result on her clipboard, giving no indication of whether or not the numbers were acceptable. After a few moments, she smiled and bowed at the waist.

“The doctor will be in shortly.”

As soon as she left the room, Demyx let go of Isa’s arm.  He returned to fidgeting as he sat tensely on the cold metal exam table, crinkling the sanitary paper lining the top of it.  “That wasn’t even the doctor?”

“That was a nurse.”

Demyx whipped his head all around as he observed the instruments hanging on the walls.  The clinic was more high-tech than Isa remembered, but he saw a fair few medical tools that he recognized quite well.  Demyx gaped at each one in horror as if he were viewing a collection of medieval torture devices. “Okay I changed my mind.  I want to go home. Let’s get out of here before she comes back.”

“Demyx, we’re not going anywhere.  You promised you’d get this exam.”

“Well, I lied!  I can’t do this!”

“Yes, you can.  Just relax.”

Demyx tried to climb down from the table, but was no match for Isa’s strength.  “You said they wouldn’t do anything I don’t want!”

“They won’t,” Isa diligently held him in place, never raising his voice no matter how hysterical Demyx got.  “Calm down, Demyx.”

Demyx’s eyes welled up with fear, “Please, I just want to go home!  I’ll get rid of my stash! I’ll flush it all down the toilet! I can cure myself!”

As he restrained his agitated friend, shushing him firmly, a large familiar-looking glass jar sitting atop a high shelf caught Isa’s eye and he was struck with a brilliant idea.  “Demyx, do you know that they give candy to the best patients?”

“What?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Isa grinned slyly, speaking with a persuasive tone. “But the strongest kids get candy.”

Demyx crossed his arms indignantly.  “I’m not a kid!”

“But who doesn’t like candy?”

The two stared at each other in silence for several seconds before Demyx relented and ceased his struggling.  Satisfied with his victory, Isa released his hold and stepped back. “You have to be brave and you can’t cry. Then they’ll be so impressed that they’ll reward you with candy.”

Demyx glared at him, “You know, you’re lucky I’m in a compromised emotional state right now or I’d drown you where you stand.”

The door opened again, and the two were greeted by an older man with graying hair and glasses.  His face was cheerful and warm, just as the nurse’s had been, and his voice was smooth and melodious.  “Hello, Mr. Demyx, my name is—“

The man paused, his jaw dropping when he laid eyes on Isa.  “Isa? Is that you?”

Isa, looking visibly uncomfortable, absentmindedly tugged at his hair and averted his eyes.  “Uh… hello, Doctor Shad…”

The doctor beamed widely at Isa, genuinely glad to see him.  “My goodness, you’ve grown! I hope you’re well! It’s a nice change to see you here and  _ not  _ bleeding.  Have you been keeping out of trouble?”

“Well, uh… you could say that…”

Isa was surprised that this doctor was still working at the clinic.  Doctor Shad had been the very same man he and Lea visited on countless occasions as kids.  He was the gentlest doctor in the whole clinic, and his kindness was unmatched. Even as he knew his patients were getting into trouble, he concerned himself only with their health and well-being, dedicated to serving the public as only he knew best.  He was truly an honorable man, well-liked by the community and a respected physician by even the best in his field. It eased Isa’s mind to know that this was the man who would be treating Demyx.

Demyx cut in, clearing his throat loudly.  “Sorry to interrupt this touching reunion, but it took me a lot of persuasion and bribery to come in here and it’s going to wear off.”

“Demyx is a friend of mine,” Isa gestured toward the quivering man with a light chuckle.  “He’s a bit nervous to be here.”

“Well, Mr. Demyx, there’s no need to be afraid.  I’m going to give you a thorough examination and we’ll go from there.  I won’t do anything invasive and it won’t hurt. Sound okay?”

“Okay, fine, just get it over with…”

Demyx sat rigid as stone as the doctor performed his exam.  As Doctor Shad pulled tools off the wall, his patient tried to scoot away, only to be intercepted by Isa each time.  The doctor only smiled and explained each instrument, even demonstrating their use on himself and Isa before approaching Demyx with them.  Demyx flinched every time the doctor’s hands neared him, but Doctor Shad never lost an ounce of patience with the young man.

The exam couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, but to Demyx it felt like an eternity.  Every instrument looked barbaric and was cold on his skin. The doctor was nice enough, but Demyx knew that his kindness was only a deception, designed to lure him into a false sense of security before performing a painful treatment.

He remembered quite well the medical ‘care’ he’d received in the Organization.  Vexen was the only member who was halfway qualified to treat his comrades’ injuries, and although Demyx had sustained very few, he would never forget a single one of them.  Vexen was a master of cunning, using his underling, Zexion, to draw the wounded into a state of calm with his superb bedside manner. Once his patient’s guard was down, he dove in with knives and needles and stinging potions, and he repaired every injury presented to him with rough handling and no mercy.

Demyx perched on the edge of the table, ready to strike, even as Isa stared him down, daring him to try something.  The doctor finally backed away to scribble on a notepad nearby, smiling and praising his new patient. “You did great, Demyx!  All right, are you ready for the run-down?”

“Give it to me straight.”

The doctor read from the notepad as he spoke, listing the ailments calmly.  “You’re pretty dehydrated. Slightly underweight. Your blood pressure and pulse are a little elevated.  Seems like your body is under some stress.”

Demyx scratched his head nervously, staring at the ground.  “I, uh… I’ve been living on the streets for a few weeks…”

The doctor’s face softened and his voice lowered slightly.  “I see… that explains a lot of what I’m seeing. I found a rash that looks like hives and a lot of nasty looking bites, likely from some pests that got to you in your sleep.  Some of them are infected and I’ll want to treat them before they get any worse, okay?”

Demyx began to tense up again.  “What are you going to do?”

“I’d like to give you a vaccination and send you home with a topical antibiotic solution.”

“Isa you promised no needles…”

“I certainly did not.”

“I told you I hate needles…!”  Demyx once again tried to make a break for it, hopping off the table before anyone could stop him.  Isa caught him around the waist before he could reach the door, dragging him back to his place and, testing his theory from earlier at the scale, lifted the musician off the ground and set him back on the table with ease.  Demyx was so shocked by the impressive show of strength that he froze with his jaw hanging open. Having gained his full and undivided attention, Isa pleaded with Demyx to take the treatment.

“You could get very sick if you ignore this.  Don’t you want to get better?”

Demyx shook his head, his voice rising in pitch with every refusal.  “I’m already sick! I’ll take my chances!”

“Demyx, listen.  It will take seconds.  You won’t even know it’s happening.”

“Do you want a minute to decide?”  The ever-patient Doctor Shad, now slightly flustered, endeavored to put the man at ease, having dealt with a plethora of terrified children, but very few terrified adults.

“I don’t need it, I already decided!”

Isa rolled his eyes, taking the kid by the shoulders in exasperation.  “Good lord, Demyx, do you want to hold my hand?”

Demyx stared at him without a word for almost a minute, making his decision uninterrupted by either of his companions.  Finally, with a shuddering sigh, his shoulders slumped as his body visibly relaxed in defeat. “Okay. Okay, fine. Just do it fast.”

The doctor went to work preparing his supplies while Demyx removed his sweatshirt.  Isa blinked, stunned as he caught a glimpse of the poor kid’s body. He was so thin that his bones were visible, and there were painful-looking sores and blemishes scattered all over his skin.  It was obvious how desperately this injection was needed. Keeping his word, Isa offered Demyx a hand, swallowing his pity for the time being. Demyx wasted no time clutching tightly to Isa’s fingers with the strongest grip he could muster.  Isa didn’t flinch; Demyx was welcome to break them if it meant he would sit still and behave himself for the next few minutes. Anything to get him to accept this very necessary treatment.

“You have to hold still,” Isa held Demyx in place as he continued to fidget and squirm.  “Don’t struggle.”

“I’m trying!”

“Just calm down.  You’re going to be fine.”

Isa clasped his friend’s shoulder in an effort to quell his violent trembling.  The doctor returned with his supplies ready, spreading a yellow liquid onto the fleshiest portion of Demyx’s arm.  The musician winced, jolting back from his touch.

“He hasn’t even done anything, Demyx.”

“That was cold!”

The doctor assumed his position, “Okay, Demyx, why don’t you turn your head for a moment?”

Demyx tightened his grasp, starting to panic as Doctor Shad approached him.  Isa scanned the room for a suitable distraction, taking notice of a poster on the opposite wall.  It was a pleasant photo of happy-looking golden retriever puppies frolicking in a field of grass, designed to put frightened children at ease.  “Look, Demyx, that picture on the wall has dogs on it.”

“Aww, they’re so cute… look at their little puppy noses…”

Taking advantage of the diversion, Doctor Shad hurriedly began the treatment.  “Take a deep breath… you’ll feel a tiny pinch.”

“A what?!  I’ll feel a what?!”

“Relax,” Isa whispered, barely audible over Demyx’s hyperventilating. “Look at the dogs.”

“I already looked at the dogs!  They’re super cute but I don’t see how that—!”

“Good job, Demyx!”

“Huh?”

The doctor completed the injection swiftly and without incident.  Demyx whirled around to see his arm, which now had a small, electric blue bandage on it.  Isa smirked, pleased that it had gone so well. “There. It’s over. See?”

Demyx, stunned, continued to inspect his arm with wide eyes.  “That was fast…”

“And it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“And brave Demyx gets to dig in the candy jar now!”

Doctor Shad pulled the jar off the high shelf and set it in front of Demyx, who gleefully explored the contents with a beaming smile.  Isa and Doctor Shad stepped away, chuckling over the whole experience.

“He’s always been like that,” Isa explained sheepishly.  “Thank you for being patient with him.”

Doctor Shad only smiled and shook his head.  “I’ve had much worse than him. He’s been no trouble at all.”

They watched as Demyx pulled out several pieces of candy and examined each one before tossing them back in the jar and searching for more.  The doctor turned to Isa with warmth in his eyes. “It sure is good to see you, Isa. It’s been so long.”

Isa returned his polite smile, but quickly hung his head in shame, remembering his decade-long broken promise.  “I’m afraid I haven’t exactly kept out of trouble… but I’m trying to make up for it.”

Doctor Shad laid a hand on his shoulder with an expression of support and compassion on his cheerful face.  “I can see that you’ve been through a lot. Don’t forget, Isa, the mind needs healing just as much as the body.  If you feel under-equipped, we can help.”

Grateful for the offer, Isa bowed his head respectfully.  “Thank you. But for now I have an excellent team helping me.”

“That’s good to hear.  There was a time when that wasn’t the case.”

They were quiet for a few moments while Demyx admired his bandage, eagerly devouring the candy he’d earned.  Isa recalled a similar image in his past, where Lea had been fawning over his bright red cast and practically inhaling the candy he received as a reward for his courage.  They later returned to Isa’s nook, where Lea emptied his pockets and revealed that he’d smuggled handfuls of candy along with him. The two sat in Isa’s nest for hours eating it while Isa wrote messages and scribbled drawings all over Lea’s cast with a marker.  Isa had been so relieved and grateful that Lea wasn’t upset with him for causing his injury that he made a point to decorate the plain-looking cast as well as he could.

“As a doctor, I have to ask…”

Isa snapped out of his reminiscing to find the doctor eyeing his forehead.  He wasn’t sure how to explain the origins of his scar to the man, wondering if Doctor Shad would understand, even if he stuck to the important points and skirted the details.  “It… it’s a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

Isa dropped his head again, sighing as he recounted the tale.  “I got mixed up in this… cult. Demyx here was a member, even Lea joined with me.  We lived for over ten years without hearts. It was very… traumatic.”

The doctor’s face fell with sympathy and concern.  “Isa, that sounds terrible…”

“This,” Isa brushed his fingers over the bold X between his eyes, “Was the result of a punishment from our leader.  I was branded with a set of energy beams.”

“May I?”

Anyone else would have been quickly denied.  Isa had only ever let Lea touch the scar, and even that was because Lea insisted on treating the wound until it healed.  However, Isa trusted this doctor unconditionally, and with a quiet nod, allowed him a moment to examine it. Doctor Shad’s touch was as gentle as Isa had remembered.  He used almost no pressure as he prodded at Isa’s forehead with his fingertips. He traced along each line on all sides, carefully pressing into the skin as he inspected the damage.  Isa could barely feel any of it.

“The scar tissue runs deep,” The doctor’s brow furrowed with concentration as he wrapped up his examination.  “What a grisly injury… this must have been a nightmare…”

“I nearly bled out, but I opted not to have it sutured.  It took over a year to heal. And… my face hasn’t been the same since.”

Isa had spent many years denying that he’d lost some feeling in his face, having hoped the numbness would go away after awhile.  It never did, and by this point, he’d grown used to the lack of sensation. Doctor Shad offered some well-meaning advice, hoping to alleviate Isa’s disappointment.

“There are things we can do.  Do you want to try them?”

Isa turned away, “I’ve had my face cut up enough…”

“We don’t have to go that route right away.  There are some other less invasive options.”

Isa closed his eyes and thought back to the day he woke up on the floor of Ansem’s laboratory.  He recalled the moment he peered into the window at his reflection and discovered that the scar was permanent.  He kept his feelings to himself, but inside he was devastated, mourning the decent-looking face he’d lost and the normal life he supposed he might have had were he not disfigured.

“I’ll think about it.”

“In the meantime, I’ll send you home with some samples.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

The doctor shifted to a more serious tone as he gestured toward Demyx, who was now examining the poster of dogs on the wall.  “As for him… It’s pretty bad. His vitals are all over the place. He’s malnourished. He’s covered in bites and hives. He’s a lot sicker than he’s letting on.”

Isa nodded, filled with pity as he explained Demyx’s situation.  “He said he’d been sleeping in an alley and eating scraps… The other night he mixed narcotics with liquor and overdosed.  He says he’s in pain and can’t sleep, and he’s experiencing significant memory loss.”

The doctor shook his head with a sorrowful expression.  “I’m not surprised at all… but my heart aches for him.”

“Can he be cured?”

“I’m going to be giving him some potions to help with the detox.  It’s going to be brutal, and he’s going to need constant supervision to keep him away from an early relapse.  The first few nights will be hellish. Altogether, it could take up to two weeks to completely purge his system of the toxins.”

Isa, having heard all this before, glanced at Demyx, praying he would be up to the daunting task that lay ahead of him.  “I’ll stay with him. I’ve been where he is…”

“After that, it will take months, maybe years of therapy to address the underlying addiction.  He’s in pretty rough shape, but the fact that he came in here and accepted treatment is a very good sign.”

“He’s so young… I couldn’t stand the thought of him throwing his life away…”

Doctor Shad patted Isa on the back.  “It’s a good thing you brought him here when you did, Isa.  You’re a good friend.”

Isa smiled meekly, “Better late than never, I suppose.”

The doctor put away some of his instruments and collected a few jars from a nearby cabinet, pausing to explain them to Demyx in between tasks.  After a moment, he stuffed everything into a small bag and handed it to Isa with a pleasant sparkle in his eye. “I’m here every day if you need me, Isa.  Don’t hesitate to come in if there’s anything else you’d like to talk about.”

Isa nodded, filled with gratitude for this man’s unending kindness.  “I’ll try to stay out of trouble this time.” He gestured for Demyx to follow him out the door, “Come, Demyx.  It’s time to go.”

As the two of them returned to the lobby, they found that there were more people inside than previously.  Almost instinctively, Isa dropped his head so that his long hair fell into a position which shielded his face from curious onlookers.  It was a reflex by now, protecting him from the shame and embarrassment of being stared at by strangers. Demyx had taken notice of his sudden compulsion and questioned him with a worried look.

“What’s the matter, dude?  Are you okay?”

“Let’s just go.  I’ll explain later.”

They had almost reached the exit when a small boy who couldn’t have been older than five rushed up to the pair with a wide-eyed, curious look on his face.  “Wow, mister! Your scar is really cool!”

The boy wore a plaid vest and tan shorts, and his hair was a light brown color, hanging in his face and obscuring one of his eyes.  A young, flustered-looking woman hurried to his side and tried to nudge him away with an apologetic glance at Isa. “Honey, that’s not polite…”

The child refused to budge, insistent on admiring Isa’s face with a bright smile.  “Hey, mister, I have a cool scar, too! Look!”

The child swept his long fringe off of his forehead to reveal a scar of his own, looking much more recent than Isa’s.  It wasn’t as clean cut, appearing a little jagged, but its shape was unmistakable and nearly took Isa’s breath away. Situated around the child’s right eyebrow was the clear image of a crescent moon.

“I got it playing ball with my daddy.  I think it looks cool! But your scar is  _ way  _ cooler than mine!”

Isa couldn’t help but smile.  He knelt down to the child’s level, indulging in a closer look at his uniquely shaped scar.  “I think yours is much more pleasant a sight than mine. Don’t you agree, Demyx?”

“Oh, yeah, totally.  Kid, your scar  _ rules _ !”

The boy beamed at them, nearly jumping in his excitement.  “Did you get yours playing ball, too?”

Isa paused, hesitating to tell the truth, but hesitating just as much to lie.  “Something like that.”

Just then, the door opened and the same nurse entered the lobby with her clipboard.  “Tam?”

The little boy looked up at his mother, who held out her hand to lead him away.  “Yes! I’m gonna get candy! Bye, mister!”

Isa nodded and rose to his feet.  The child scampered off toward the nurse and soon disappeared behind the door.  Still smiling, Isa followed Demyx out of the clinic and into the street. The sun was bright, and they squinted in its blinding light for a few moments as they made the trek back toward the castle.  Demyx had been hanging his head with his hands in his pockets, appearing to be deep in thought for a long while before finally speaking his mind.

“So… that’s it, then.  No more.”

“It’s your choice whether or not you do this, Demyx.”

“I want to.  I hate what it’s done to me.  It doesn’t even feel good anymore, it just feels less bad.  It isn’t worth it.”

Demyx looked increasingly forlorn as they walked along the busy streets of downtown.  They passed by a secluded alleyway where human-sized figures could be seen wrapped up in tattered blankets and lying on the ground.  Demyx paused, staring at them with a pained grimace. Ansem the Wise had an incredible system in place to take care of his citizens, but even the most compassionate governments let a few people fall through the cracks.  Isa had been one of those people, and found it just as painful to look at the figures sleeping on the ground in front of them as Demyx did. Isa gripped Demyx’s shoulder in support to remind him that he wouldn’t end up back there again.  “What you’re about to do is incredibly scary. Some apprehension is to be expected.”

“What if I screw up?”

“The newborn fawn stumbles many a time in the first hour after its birth.  Ten times out of ten, it still gets back up and learns to walk.”

Demyx scoffed incredulously.  “Oh come on, I’m sure there are  _ some _ that fail and never figure it out.  What happens to them?”

Isa shrugged.  “They die.”

Demyx gulped audibly.  “I guess the stakes are pretty high, then…”

“You’ve got a very compassionate group of people who will lift you back to your feet if you fall, Demyx.”

They resumed their walk back to the castle.  Demyx seemed less nervous, and smiled at his companion with gratitude on his cheerful face.  “Thank you, Isa. You don’t know what this means to me…”   
“I know very well,” Isa patted him on the back.  “But you won’t be thanking me in a few hours when the first withdrawal symptoms begin.  You need to prepare yourself.”

“The Doc said I need a sobriety coach…”

“Yes, someone must stay with you and keep you focused on your goal.”

Demyx stroked his chin in thought.  “I guess whoever it is will have to be pretty tough…”

Isa nodded, “Your sobriety coach will have a duty to keep you from relapsing.  They will have to know when to be firm.”

Demyx clasped his fingers behind his head, making a show of his gratuitous brainstorming.  “And I guess they have to be really patient and supportive…”

Isa played along, biding his time until they arrived at the punchline.  “Detox is painful. It will help to have a compassionate coach who is just as gentle as they are stern.”

Demyx leaned heavily in Isa’s direction as they walked.  “ _ And _ I bet it would be smart to have a coach who’s been through it before…”

“Yes, if your coach understands your experience and is knowledgeable in the process—“

“Isa, will you be my sobriety coach?”

Isa couldn’t help but laugh at the dramatic build up to such an obvious proposal.  There was never any question that Isa would be the man to keep Demyx out of trouble for awhile, but he found it flattering that Demyx wanted to make such an official arrangement out of it.  “Of course I will, Demyx. I’d be honored.”

“What should I do now?  To get ready?”

“I’m going to teach you some exercises to help you relax, and then you’re going to go to sleep.”

“You think I’ll get lucky and just sleep through the whole thing?”

Isa averted his eyes, wishing he could give Demyx a better answer than the truth.  “...Perhaps.”

Fear gripped Demyx again, and he shuddered at the images his mind was conjuring against his will.  “Tonight’s gonna suck, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“I’m nervous as hell.”

“It’s warranted.  But don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

“And you’re going to be there the whole time, right?”

“Every second.”

At times, Demyx forgot that this man had once antagonized him on a daily basis.  It was heartbreaking to see that  _ this  _ was the man who had been sacrificed to create the unforgiving monster that was Saïx.  Isa had replaced all of Saïx’s hostility with gentleness. He prioritized the needs of his friends above his own without a second thought.  He sought to approach every situation with kindness and empathy. Overflowing with gratitude, Demyx had developed a deep respect for Isa, having seen with his own eyes the miraculous transformation from monster to man.  Isa was giving Demyx a hand up. Saïx would have likely left him on the street.

Looking slightly relieved but no less frightened, Demyx managed a weak smile at Isa.  “You’re a good friend… Coach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to throw in some good old hurt/comfort and make this scene as fluffy as possible!


	12. Baby Steps: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Isa's support, Demyx begins the detox process and has an unexpected side effect when he first reaches sobriety.

“I quit!  I can’t do this anymore!”

Demyx was curled up on the floor of Lea’s bedroom in the fetal position, pressing his face into a soft pillow he desperately hugged to his chest.  He was hysterical, writhing and thrashing about in agony. Isa sat quietly beside him, helplessly watching, unable to do much of anything but talk to him.  “You’re doing fine.”

“No!  This is torture!”

At first, Demyx only shivered, complaining of light nausea and a mild headache.  As the night drew on, the nausea had evolved into profuse vomiting, the shivering had graduated to violent shakes and convulsions, and his aching muscles and sore joints had developed into searing, full-body pains which Demyx likened to being stabbed with burning knives from under his own skin.

“Why doesn’t that stuff work…?!”

“Remember, this first night is the hardest.  It’s going to get easier, Demyx. You just have to hold on.”

Isa, embracing his role as a diligent coach, did everything in his power to make Demyx comfortable, quite familiar with the cruel nature of detox.  The medicine Demyx was given was marginally effective, but it would never have been strong enough to make the process completely painless, especially in the first night.  Isa attempted to employ one of the several alternate methods in his arsenal for reducing the discomfort naturally — or at least distract him — but Demyx was resistant, too distraught to concentrate on the exercises.  Upon reflection from his own first night, Isa couldn’t blame him in the least.

Demyx, panicking, dug his fingers into his scalp and forcibly yanked out several of his dirty blond hairs as he clenched his fists in anguish.  “I’ll never make it… I can’t do it…”

“You can, Demyx.  You’re doing it already,” Isa grabbed Demyx by the wrists to stop him pulling out any more of his hair.  “Do you remember all those techniques we practiced?”

“Screw your techniques!  They don’t work!”

“You haven’t tried them.”

Demyx jerked out of Isa’s grasp and curled back up on the floor, his face covered in tears, frantically hyperventilating.  He was positive he’d broken every one of his bones, been flayed alive and was engulfed in flames, so consumed by his agony that the room grew dark.  He lifted himself onto his knees, wavering from the vertigo as he rested on his heels, wheezing loudly.

“Coach, it’s so awful… I swear, I’m on fire…”

“Steady...” Isa reached for him, stroking his back and lowering his voice.  “Just relax.”

Demyx flinched at his touch, as if Isa’s hand were made of razor blades.  “I feel like I’m dying!”

“You’re panicking, Demyx.  Calm down. You’re not dying.  Just take a deep breath.”

Demyx raged furiously at Isa, lashing out as if he were the cause of his distress.  “Coach, I’m serious!!”

“Breathe…”

Demyx grabbed Isa’s shirt, clenching the material in his fists and staring daggers into his eyes.  “I could kill you now… I could choke the life out of you right here!”

Isa’s resolve didn’t falter in the slightest.  “You’re doing great, Demyx.”

“I thought we were friends!”

“We are friends.  That’s why I’m here.”

Exhausted from shouting, Demyx released Isa’s shirt and collapsed onto the ground in despair.  Every movement sent electric jolts through his body, eliciting violent muscular spasms and a piercing sensation of pins and needles in his skin.  The pain was blinding. It was indescribable. He clung to any and every small comfort he found, knowing it wouldn’t work. He begged for mercy he knew Isa couldn’t give him.  He grasped at any option he could think of through the fog in his brain, only to come up empty-handed. He curled inward with his head in his hands, ashamed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean that… I’m sorry, Coach…”   
Isa, filled with sympathy for his poor friend, laid himself down on the floor beside him so that he could see his face.  Tears ran from Demyx’s eyes and soaked into the carpet beneath him. He reached for Isa’s hand and clasped his shaking fingers around it.  It was all so familiar and so sad. Isa saw himself in Demyx’s quivering form, full of rage and violence, punching through walls and windows and desperately clawing at his own skin just so he could feel pain that made sense.  He saw himself curled up in his nest, choking on his pitiful sobs, shouting some of the most hurtful things he could think of to send Lea away. Isa would always be grateful that his friend didn’t listen to him, unsure of where he’d be today if he had.  “Demyx, listen to me. This is going to be a lot harder if you don’t relax.”

“How can I relax when I hurt in places I didn’t know I had?!”

“Humor me.  Take one deep breath and see if you don’t feel just a little better afterwards.”

“Coach…”

“I’ll do it with you.”

Still skeptical but with nothing to lose, Demyx did as he was instructed, following Isa’s lead and filling his lungs to the brim before letting them deflate until completely empty.  His entire body slumped as he exhaled and a peculiar sensation of peace washed over him. It was mild and short-lived, but it was refreshing, if only for a moment.

Isa raised an eyebrow, waiting.  “Well?”

“It still hurts.” Demyx muttered indignantly.

“I know.  But now you can think, can’t you?”

“Sort of…”

“That’s good.  You’re doing well, Demyx.  Now, try again for me. Slowly.”

Isa swept the sweat-matted hair out of Demyx’s eyes while listening to his breaths leveling off at last.  Pleased with the cooperation, he sought to take advantage of the serenity Demyx had stumbled into while he had the opportunity.  If he could get the man to sleep, he’d be golden.

“That’s much better,” he praised his friend, pulling him into an upright position. “Come, sit up for awhile and face me.”

They sat cross-legged together, so close that their knees touched.  Setting his sights on putting Demyx to sleep, Isa directed him in a simple meditation technique that he himself had used during his own detox period.

“Breathe in…”

“Not the stupid exercises…”

“I said breathe in.”

Demyx reluctantly obeyed his command.  “Coach, my  _ soul _ hurts.”

“I’m sure it does.  Now, accept it.”

“You’re not making any sense…”

“Breathe out.  Focus. Listen to my voice.  Don’t think about anything else.”

Isa lowered his voice until it was barely above a whisper, forcing Demyx to concentrate intently just to hear the instructions.  “Pain is experienced in waves. Close your eyes and watch it progress. Become aware of its rising and falling. Brace yourself for its peaks.  Rest yourself in its valleys. Breathe in.”

Demyx closed his eyes, unable to stop his violent trembling, but trying his best to do as he was told.  He focused intently on the crippling pains that spanned his entire body. To his surprise, Isa was right.  The intensity seemed to climb and then dissipate just as he had said. It was comforting to know that as horrible as it was, it at least wasn’t as constant as he’d thought.

“Breathe out.  Don’t fight it, Demyx.  You mustn’t fight with pain or fear.  You will always lose. But don’t ignore it, either.  Those who are ignored tend to raise their voice until they are acknowledged.”

A calm release flowed through Demyx the longer he watched the waves roll by.  The pain was still unpleasant, but the steady, rhythmic pattern was mesmerizing, and made it easier to anticipate and prepare for.  Demyx couldn’t believe Isa had figured this out.

“Breathe in.  Concentrate. Examine the pain and the fear, and let them be.  Acknowledge them, then accept them. Breathe out.”

So relieved was he to be free of his panic for at least awhile, Demyx could feel tears spilling from his eyes yet again.  He hung his head, his shivering torso shaking with his sobs. “I’m sorry… I’m being such a baby… I guess I really am still a coward…”

Isa shook his head, taking Demyx by the shoulders.  “Cowards don’t take this step, Demyx. It takes incredible strength to endure this.  You’re very brave.”

“No, I’m pathetic.  I can’t be brave and scared at the same time…”

“Of course you can.  You can be afraid, but it takes courage to face that fear.”

Demyx hugged his knees, resting his forehead on his wrists while practicing Isa’s meditation.  As Isa watched him rocking and panting, he reflected on their days in the Organization. Demyx was well known among his comrades to be a coward who avoided combat at all costs.  For years, Isa acted like a school yard bully to his younger comrade, ridiculing Demyx for his fears and insisting that as a Nobody, he was incapable of being afraid. It suddenly made perfect sense why Isa was to play this role in Demyx’s recovery.  He owed the man at least this much after all he’d put him through.

“Are you afraid of anything?”

Isa started, caught off guard.  “Me?”

Demyx leaned back against the wall, clinging to the pillow again and speaking in a hoarse voice.  “You always seemed like nothing could scare you…”

Isa shrugged, “I’m just as human as you are.  Lots of things scare me.”

“Like?”

Unsure whether or not he ought to answer, Isa hesitated, lest the knowledge be used against him.  “I really loathe arachnids.”

Demyx’s jaw dropped, momentarily speechless from the shocking confession.  “No way! The great and powerful Isa is afraid of  _ spiders _ ?!”

“They’re ugly, crawling little vermin and I simply can’t stand the sight of them.”

Isa visibly shuddered just thinking about it, only surprising Demyx even more.  “I can’t believe it… I thought it would be something big, like being afraid of dying or something…”

“I’ve died twice,” Isa stated matter-of-factly.  “Spiders are still more frightening.”

Demyx chuckled weakly, still stunned that Isa had concealed this secret for so long.  “I guess not all fears have to make sense, huh?”

“That’s what makes them irrational.  I might not understand your fear of heights, but it makes all the sense in the world to you, doesn’t it?”

Demyx cringed, feeling slightly dizzy.  “Yeah, you’re right. Heights scare the crap out of me.  I don’t know how you people go up on that clock tower and eat ice cream like you’re not one slip from falling to your deaths…”

Isa chuckled, but quickly lowered his voice to an urgent whisper, protecting his reputation with a very personal request.  “This stays between you and me.”

Demyx mimed pulling a zipper across his mouth.  “My lips are sealed. What else scares you?”

Isa thought for a moment.  He certainly found Xehanort frightening, even after his death.  The nightmares had made that quite clear. Xemnas was always terrifying in his own way, but it was too simple to just say that he was afraid of Xemnas.  It was stronger and more complex than that. As if his fears of Xemnas and Xehanort were only the tip of the iceberg while a deeper and more primal fear hid beneath the surface.  Xehanort had possessed Isa and watched his every move for ten years. Xemnas had tortured and manipulated Isa for just as long. But there was always one motivating factor they used against him.  His only weakness. Isa didn’t care what they did to him. All that mattered was that he protect…

“... Lea.  Lea scares me.”

“Huh?  How?”

The threat of harm befalling Lea gnawed at Isa for years and years, long before the Organization and still after.  Isa would never forgive himself for getting Lea mixed up with Xehanort’s experiments — a mistake which cost both boys their hearts.  Xemnas knew how precious Lea was to Isa, and he used that leverage every day to psychologically brutalize Isa into submission.

“I failed to protect him once.  Twice. Countless times. Each time he’s managed to bullshit his way out of danger.  I suppose I’m afraid of the day when he won’t make it… I don’t know what I’d do if anything were to happen to him…”

Isa winced at the sudden painful clench in his chest.  He had been thinking of the day when he’d learned that Lea had sacrificed himself to save Sora.  He sat in his throne, staring bitterly into the floor of the round room, biting back his inexplicable rage as his comrades casually discussed the death of the only man he’d ever cared about.  He later went into Lea’s bedroom, secretly hoping his old friend would be inside and tell him it was all a mistake and that he was too tough to go down so easily. He sank into the mattress, overwhelmed by grief.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hurt so much. Not even when Lea left the Organization. Isa clenched the sheets in his fingers and pressed the material to his cheek. They were just as soft on his face as they always were.  They still smelled like Lea. They were warm, as if he’d just slept in them. There were tiny red hairs scattered on his pillow. That night was the first time that Isa had ever cried as a Nobody.

_ He was foolish and weak…  _

“I think losing Lea is what I fear the most.”

Demyx watched with sadness as Isa slowly sank into what must have been a terrible memory.  His calm face now looked troubled and despondent. He reached out to his friend, intending to free him from his sudden spiral.  “He must really be special to you…”

“Demyx,” Isa sighed.  “In all my life, I have never loved someone as deeply as Lea.”

Demyx gasped, clutching his chest, moved by such a heartfelt declaration.  “Wow… That’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said…”

Isa scoffed, “Really?  I think I can do better than that.”

They were quiet for a time.  Demyx found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the aches and the nausea, but the only thing that had managed to distract him was his conversation with Isa.  The story of his relationship with Axel seemed like the type one might read in a romance novel. Demyx hoped that one day he might be able to feel that close to somebody. It didn’t matter if it was a man or a woman, Demyx just wished he could experience the exhilaration of loving someone and being loved in return.  Until then, he refused to stand by and watch his friends pine for each other across a chasm that wasn’t really there.

“Does he know?”

“Hmm?”

“Does Axel know you feel that way?”

Isa felt the corners of his mouth twitch.  He was barely able to suppress the smile. He wouldn’t get his hopes up.  After everything he’d done to Lea, he surely hadn’t a chance in hell. “I suppose maybe somewhere deep down he knows.  But I’m really not sure.”

“Well, have you told him?”

“Not… exactly, no.”

“Hmph,” Demyx slumped against the wall.  “You’re missing out, then. For all you know, he feels the same way.”

Isa couldn’t help himself.  He smirked, enjoying the fantasy of Demyx’s suggestion.  Isa had only been human again for a touch longer than three weeks.  Even after so much time, he still felt new and complex emotions barrel through him every day.  He had weathered them well, having discovered plenty of helpful coping methods along the way while otherwise pouring all of his energy into Demyx’s recovery.  Despite everything, Lea was still there. His arms were still open whenever Isa fell apart. He still kept the sheets warm even if he knew Isa wouldn’t be coming to sleep in them.  Maybe Demyx was right. Maybe Lea did feel the same way.

There was silence again.  Demyx was leaned against the wall and let his head roll to the side.  For a moment, Isa thought he’d done it and put the kid to sleep. But soon, he noticed that Demyx’s breaths began to accelerate.  He lifted his head and stared into space with a peculiar look in his eyes. It was difficult to interpret, but Isa would have described it as being disturbed.

“Being scared of fighting…” Demyx spoke with a much deeper voice than Isa had ever heard from him.  “It feels so  _ deep. _   Like it’s a part of me.  I can’t explain it. It’s so much more than just being afraid of getting hurt.  It’s almost like… I don’t know, like a memory… but not a memory of anything that happened, just a memory of a  _ feeling _ .  Do you understand what I’m saying?  I feel like I’m not making sense…”

Isa grew increasingly concerned with every word that came out of Demyx’s mouth.  Never once had he ever heard Demyx talk like this in all the time he’d known him.  “It makes perfect sense, Demyx. What you’re describing is… being traumatized. Soldiers who come back from war often feel the way you do.”

Demyx’s voice snapped back into its original register and his demeanor returned to its previous state.  “War? Pfft. I’ve never been in any war. I don’t understand how I could be traumatized…”

To Isa’s shock, his friend seemed not to notice any of the changes that had just occurred.  Just what was happening to him? Isa tried to keep him talking, worried that he might be experiencing an unexpected side effect of the detox process.  “There’s a lot about your past that you can’t remember now. I’m sure it will all become clear when your memories return to you.”

Demyx nodded, absentmindedly picking at some loose threads in the carpet.  He pulled up a long, bright red hair that had been stuck between the fibers.  It was one of Axel’s hairs. How long had it been here? The red color was so vibrant.  It evoked images of a sunset, a rose, fire, blood… 

_ There was so much noise.  The deafening crash of metal on metal.  The dull roar of the rain. The cries of the fallen.  The screaming. So much screaming. _

There was a sharp throb in his head, right between the eyes.  He winced, gasping from the shock of it. He tried to rub it away but it only stung harder.  “It’s awful, you know… fighting Heartless is one thing. They’re just monsters. But… fighting rpeople?  Like, shouldn’t we all be on the same side? How can people bring themselves to kill other people?”

_ The pain.  The fear. The anguish.  The screaming was getting louder.  He couldn’t hear himself speak. It was too loud.  He covered his ears. _

Isa had crawled to a closer spot directly beside Demyx, watching him intently as if waiting for him to burst into flames.  “Humanity is flawed. Conflict is in our nature. Wars are started for a variety of reasons, but I agree that it is deplorable.”

_ He dropped his weapon in shock.  It fell to the ground with an echoing clatter.  He looked down at his hands and found that they were covered in blood.  He was sickened by the sight. He vomited right then and there. That blood wasn’t his. _

Demyx began to tremble violently.  His voice had dropped again, sounding ragged and worn.  “Man… to go out into the field, not knowing if that day is your last… To watch people go down left and right and wonder why you made it… To lose your friends in combat without even a grave to cry over… That shit scares me on like, a spiritual level or something…”

“Demyx…?”  Isa lifted Demyx’s face, peering into his eyes, but Demyx was staring right through him, as if watching a scene play out in the space behind Isa’s head.

_ The bodies.  God, the bodies.  What a waste of human life.  Was anyone really winning at this point? _

“Those people all have lives and families… to just snuff someone out like that… because someone ordered you to…”

“Demyx, are you remembering something?”

_ This is why they all think you’re a coward. _

The pained grimace on his face shifted to one of intense grief and woe.  “Luxord… Larxene… I wish I knew where they were… If they were lost, I don’t think I could go on…”

“Easy…”

“I miss them… they were the closest I ever had to friends…”

“Shh, don't work yourself up…”

Demyx was becoming hysterical.  His breaths were heavy and rapid.  For the first time since this sudden episode, he looked Isa directly in the eyes.  “I never got to say goodbye to them! I took off to help Zexion and Ansem the Wise… I didn’t think that was going to be the last time I saw them!”

“Demyx,” Isa took him by the shoulders.  “Luxord is smart. Larxene is… proactive.  I doubt they’d go down so easily. They’re probably looking for you, too.”

_ Run.  Just run.  Don’t look back. _

His head was pounding.  The pain throbbed so strongly that he thought his skull might explode.  He clasped his palms over his temples. “My head… my head…!”

“Demyx, snap out of it!”

With a loud gasp, Demyx froze.  The noise in his head had fallen silent.  The images were gone. For a brief moment, he’d forgotten where he was.  The aches in his body returned. His vision cleared and he recognized Isa, right in front of him and looking worried.

“What… the hell just happened?”

Isa sighed, relieved to see Demyx back to normal.  “I think you had a flashback.”

Demyx pulled his knees up, dropping his head between them.  He was dizzy. His stomach was in knots. His throat was so tight he could barely speak.  He squeezed his eyes shut and murmured with a shaking voice. “I don’t feel so good…”

“Are you going to be sick?”

“No… but I’m gonna cry a bunch…”

Isa, satisfied with Demyx’s well-being, sat beside him and prepared for the inevitable.  “It’s alright, Demyx, you don’t have to hold back in front of me.”

Demyx cried for what felt like hours.  With his face buried in his hands, he went on until his eyes were burning and his nose dribbled.  He’d soaked the sleeves of his sweatshirt with tears and his throat felt dry and scratchy. For the life of him, he couldn’t even figure out what he was crying for.  He could no longer remember what had happened, only that everything had gone dark, and when he came to, he felt more afraid than he’d ever felt in his life.

Isa rested quietly with his arm around Demyx’s shoulders, patiently waiting for the man to wear himself out.  He couldn't even begin to imagine what Demyx had just seen to elicit such a response as this. Just who was he and where did he come from?  What sort of hell had he lived through that he’d never told anyone about? What horrors had he seen in his past that were so traumatic that he suppressed even the memory of them?

After a long while, Demyx wound down and was still, leaning on Isa’s shoulder with his eyes closed.  Several times he appeared to drift away, only to jerk himself back to consciousness.

“Sleep, Demyx.  There’s no sense trying to stay awake if you’re tired.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep, ‘cause you’ll leave if I do…”

“I won’t leave.  It’s my job to stay here with you tonight.”

Demyx looked at Isa with child-like eyes, as if depending on him to scare off the monsters beneath his bed.  “Promise?”

Isa smiled warmly at him.  “Promise.”

Demyx was out the second he hit the mattress.  Isa was perched on the window sill, gazing at the moon when he heard a soft knock on the door.  Puzzled, he climbed down and answered it. Lea was standing on the other side in his pajamas, smiling sheepishly.

“How is he?”

Isa let Lea inside, whispering to keep from disturbing Demyx.  “I finally got him to sleep. It’s a damn miracle.”

“Poor guy…”

“This is the strongest I’ve ever seen him.”

The two sat on the floor, leaning against the wall together.  Lea eyed Isa with a wary look. “How are you?”

“Tired.”

“You need a break?”

He absolutely needed a break.  He could barely keep his eyes open.  “I’m fine. If he wakes up, I’m the person he’ll be needing.”

“I’ll sit with you.  You look like you’re about to crash.  I can wake you up if he needs you.”

“Don’t let me keep you awake.”

Lea smirked almost mischievously.  “You, Isa, are the only person in this world allowed to keep me awake.”

Isa chuckled lightly, then indulged for just a few seconds, letting his eyelids fall.  Sleep threatened to overtake him and he forced them open every time he felt himself sinking.  He worried for Demyx. The poor kid clearly had much deeper issues than addiction. This was beyond even Isa’s expertise.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Lea’s words dragged Isa from his deep pondering.  He considered telling Lea about Demyx’s flashback, but decided against it.  It wasn’t his story to tell, and Isa was too tired to recount the details. “Just heavy conversation… Really, Lea, I’m alright.  I’m just tired.”

Lea gently guided Isa’s head into his lap, and Isa rested peacefully on his leg.  The flannel he wore was soft and warm. Sleep tempted him again. Isa had to fight to resist its tantalizing advances.  Lea, attempting to achieve the exact opposite outcome, combed his fingers through Isa’s long, blue hair. “Close your eyes.”

Isa was losing this battle, and had no choice but to let sleep win.  He couldn’t remain conscious for one more second. He softly whispered to his friend one more time before surrendering himself at last.  “Lea…?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t leave…”

Lea paused, curious and confused.  “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

Lea smiled.  Isa was already gone by the time he’d answered.  “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOO much hurt/comfort in this one, after this it's back to your regularly scheduled angst I promise.


	13. Behind the Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa is growing weary of his scar. Lea has a good idea and offers to help him with it, but it seems like someone turned up the heat in here...

Every scar has a story.  From the smallest jagged lines all the way to entire missing limbs, everyone who has one has likely rehearsed the accompanying tale and can recite it word for word.  The scarred come to expect the questions, and have told and retold the story so many times that they eventually grow numb to the experience. The first few times are exciting, and the bearer of the scar keeps their listeners in suspense by adding drama and intrigue to what, for them, might have been a somewhat traumatic experience.  Others may offset the awkwardness with humor, letting their audience laugh at their expense to stave off the embarrassment. But after awhile, the monologue becomes routine, and the animation in the teller’s voice gradually falls to a bored, lifeless drone. They begin to feel as though people see the scar first, then the person beneath it, and then they grow to resent the scar for absorbing their identity.  Or at least, that’s how it was for Isa.

He sat cross-legged on the bathroom counter, leaning so closely that his face hovered only inches from the mirror.  He traced the outline of his scar with his fingertips as he’d done so many times before, each time eagerly anticipating the possibility of feeling smooth, untouched skin, and each time being sorely disappointed.  The glaring red X between his eyes stood out like a target on what was otherwise a decent-looking face. It was dark and menacing, giving his already stern expression an even more frightening quality, as if his face needed any more sharp edges.  He could learn to live with a scar, but this one was so much more than the superficial damage left behind after a benign injury. This one had a story, just like any scar, but it was a story Isa would rather forget, and dreaded ever having to tell.

“Isa?  What are you doing up there?”

He was so deeply focused on his likeness that he didn’t notice Lea standing in the doorway, watching him.  “Nothing.”

Unconvinced, Lea cautiously approached the counter, peering at the man hunched over and staring intently at his own reflection.  “You, uh… you got a pimple or something?”

“I haven’t had one of those in ten years.”

“Rub it in, why don’t ya!  Anyway, what are you looking at?”

“My face.”

Lea gazed into the mirror, trying to see what Isa was seeing.  His face was as handsome as ever. The smolder in his eyes could have burned right through the glass.  Lea couldn’t fathom why he would be so troubled by his appearance, but thankfully, Isa elaborated.

“Every time I look at my face, I have to remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it,” Isa gestured to his steely visage.  “It’s hideous. Every time I see my reflection, it’s the first thing to catch my eye.  I see Saïx before I ever see Isa.”

Isa continued to have dreams of the day when Xemnas punished him, only the puddle of blood on the floor reflected more faces than just his or Lea’s.  He saw Demyx, Roxas, and even Xion sometimes, staring back at him from the crimson pool and wearing the horrendous sigil between their glowing yellow eyes.  In desperation, Isa had taken serious consideration of Doctor Shad’s advice, if only to alleviate the nightmares. He hated interrupting Lea’s sleep night after night.

“It’s faded a lot over the years, Isa,” Lea reminded him.  “It probably will continue to fade even more.”

“I think this is as good as it’s going to get.”

On the good doctor’s advice, Isa had tried a plethora of remedies to lessen the scar’s appearance.  He’d lay on his back for hours with a bag of ice on his forehead, hoping it would just shrink away from the cold.  He’d tried every medicine he could think of and every questionable herbal potion that had been suggested to him. Nothing reduced the image of the harsh, imposing X on his face.  He sighed heavily, having lost hope, wondering how he’d ever accept being stuck with such an offensive blemish.

Isa chuckled sadly.  “Saïx grew to like it.  He thought it made him look mysterious and fearsome.  He was _proud_ to bear the sigil as a symbol of his devotion.” He shook his head.  “What a fool…”

Lea opened his mouth to protest, but realizing he could think of no helpful words, he closed it again.  He’d long since grown used to Isa’s scar, to the point where it was a struggle to remember what he looked like before he got it.  He closed his eyes and tried to picture the man’s face without the mark but he couldn’t do it. It had become so much a part of him that Lea’s mind simply couldn’t construct an image of Isa’s face, mature, clean and unscarred.

“I thought I could get used to it,” Isa lamented aloud.  “I thought I could look on it as a victor’s trophy and let it serve as a reminder of the trials I’ve overcome.  But it’s only reminding me of the atrocities I committed, and the trauma I experienced during my conditioning.”

Lea grasped Isa’s shoulder, easing him out of his despair to show him a glimpse of reality.  “Isa… No matter what your face looks like, you are still Isa. You’ll always be Isa to me. Even when you went by a different name and insisted Isa was gone for good, you were still Isa in my eyes.”

“I have to explain this repulsive scar to anyone I meet.”

“Has anybody asked you to explain it before?”

Isa was quiet for several seconds, making his answer obvious before he even gave it.  “No. No one has asked.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure it does.  If people actually found it repulsive, you would know.”

Isa leaned onto his knees again, resting his chin on his knuckles and gazing at his forehead with a gloomy expression.  Lea climbed onto the counter beside him, hoping to draw him away from the mirror. “What’s this coming from, anyway? Is this because of the party?  Isa, you know these people and you know they aren’t—”

“I know they wonder.  I know they wish they could ask.  Thankfully, I’m so intimidating that they don’t.  They don’t even talk to me. That’s how much it scares them.”

Lea raised an eyebrow at him.  “Isa, come on. They don’t talk to you because you hide in a corner and look angry all the time.  It’s got nothing to do with the scar.”

Isa finally dragged his eyes away from his reflection and turned to face Lea with a surprisingly wounded look on his face.  “Did I look less angry before it?”

“What?”

“Tell me.  Did I look less angry before the scar?”

Unsure what Isa was getting at, Lea answered honestly and hoped he wasn’t being led into a trap.  “I mean, I guess so, but it’s not something I really think about. That was a long time ago, Isa.”

Isa returned his sight to the mirror.  There was frustration and defeat in his eyes, and after several moments of silence, he wasn’t even looking at his face anymore.  With a sigh, he finally dropped his guard. “Lea, do you know that I cannot move parts of my face like I could before?”

“What?”

“When I took Demyx to the clinic, I had the privilege of seeing Doctor Shad again.  He couldn’t help but examine it, only confirming what I already knew. The cut was so deep that it damaged far more than just skin.  That’s why I look angry all the time, Lea. I can’t make any other expressions.”

Lea felt his skin crawl as guilt washed over him.  He had no idea that Isa had suffered any lasting internal damage from the injury, and his accusation must have hurt him deeply.  He laid a hand on his friend’s back, bowing his head apologetically. “Isa, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I thought it would go back to normal after it healed.  It never did. My face is stuck like this. It’s all completely numb.”

“I know you think that’s the case, Isa, but believe me, I’ve seen you happy, and so has everyone else.  It isn’t nearly as bad as you think it is.”

Isa didn’t say anything.  The memories were rising to the surface, fresh in his mind yet again.  Trying to move his face at all was painful for several weeks following Xemnas’ punishment.  It was months before his forehead stopped feeling stiff. When the skin had finally closed up, he thought he could look forward to being able to move his long-unused muscles again.  To his dismay, he made numerous attempts to lift his eyebrows, only for them to remain frozen in place. He tried over and over to soften his sharp expression, but his face would not obey.  His muscles and nerves had been permanently damaged, and although he was able to regain some motion after many years of practice, he was never able to look bright or cheerful after that incident, and for quite a while, he didn’t want to.

“Do you want me to cover it up?”

Snapped out of his trance, Isa was confused by Lea’s suggestion.  “What?”

“I can cover it up, if you hate it that much.”

“How?”

“With the power of makeup!”

Isa twisted his face with visible repulsion — an expression of which he was still quite capable.  “Ugh, you still do that?”

Lea scoffed, proudly displaying the obvious liner around his eyes, the bronze shading on his jaw, and the sparkling highlights on his cheeks.  He didn’t wear enough for the average person to notice, but people would start asking him if he was sick were he to suddenly go without. “Isa, you would be positively _scandalized_ if you knew how many people — including _men_ — wear makeup on a daily basis.”

“I just don’t see the point.”

“It’s designed to enhance your features!  It makes all the best parts of your face really _pop_.”

As far as Isa was concerned, Lea’s features required no enhancement.  They were perfectly striking just as they were. “Lea, you should be thankful that you have a flawless face.  What’s there to improve upon?”

Lea blushed, grinning at his friend’s compliment.  “I’m so _flattered_ , Isa.  But let me answer your question with a question.  Your ears are perfect, so why did you stab holes into them only to attach tiny metal ornaments?”

Dumbfounded by the observation, Isa absentmindedly tugged at one of the silver studs in his earlobe.  They’d become such a part of him that he hardly noticed them anymore. He thought back to the day he’d got them.  It was so long ago, and the memories were hazy. He could remember an older man with a goatee, his arms lined with tattoos from top to bottom.  Isa recalled admiring the art on his skin, vowing one day to get a tattoo of his own. Perhaps he and Lea would get them together. Was Lea even with him that day?  Isa had no memory of him being there.

He sat in a frighteningly wobbly chair with a bright light shining in his eyes.  The room smelled of smoke, and he could barely hear the man mumbling with disinterest over the deafening whir of drills.  Before he had a chance to get nervous, there was a cold sensation on the lobe of his ear. The man was telling him to hold still.  Isa remembered the shocking sting of the needle quite well. He gripped the arms of the chair, startled and expecting to suffer, but the pain was mild and short-lived.  The whole experience was exhilarating and he was already planning his next visit. The last thing he could recall was being handed a mirror, and the elation he felt when he got his first look at his reflection.  It was the image of the mirror that jolted him back to the present, now looking at the adult version of that same reflection, but feeling none of the joy he felt back then.

“I don’t really remember why.  I was rebellious in my youth. I suppose I thought it made me look tough,” Isa shrugged.  “By now I’m just used to them. I’d look… odd without them.”

Lea disagreed, but used the argument to his advantage anyway.  “Exactly, and I would look _odd_ without makeup.”

“You wouldn’t.  I’ve seen you without it many times.  You’ve never needed that clown paint.”

“But that’s just it.  We don’t wear it because we _need_ it.  We wear it because we like it.  It’s not meant to be a bandage or an eraser.  It’s a decoration. Just like your silly little ear studs.”

As Isa closely examined Lea’s face, for the first time observing the modifications he made, he began to understand what his friend was saying.  Lea saw his own face as a blank canvas upon which to create art. Where there was once a perfectly lovely pair of green eyes, now there were the same dazzling eyes surrounded by a bold outline that more clearly defined their shape and drew in Isa’s focus.  Where there was once a prominent cheekbone and a shapely jaw, there was now the same cheekbone accentuated by a subtle shimmer, and the same jaw, contoured with handsome shadows along its borders. Lea sought not to change his features, but to embellish them.  Isa thought back to the man with the tattoos along his arms and how they impressed him as a boy. He considered those images to be works of art. Perhaps Lea’s inclination to paint his face was no different.

“Well, Isa, do you want me to try?  It’s not like a piercing. It wipes right off if you don’t like it.”

At the end of the day, Isa had nothing to lose, so he decided to give Lea a chance.  “All right, fine. Show me your artistry.”

“Yeah!  Have a seat, this might take awhile.”

Watching him prance around the bathroom was cute, but Isa began to feel apprehensive.  It wasn’t the same anticipation he felt in that wobbly chair in the tattoo parlor, but it was similar.  He was nervous, but for different reasons that he couldn’t grasp. He was excited, but guarded as well. Lea rummaged through cupboards and drawers, collecting jars and palettes and brushes and laying them meticulously on the counter, spread in neatly organized rows.  It was more than any one person would ever need. Isa looked on with bewilderment as Lea gathered his arsenal, full of odd-looking instruments he didn’t recognize, hoping he wouldn’t regret agreeing to this experiment.

Lea seated himself on a stool in front of Isa, leaning uncomfortably close and staring intently at his face, inspecting every pore and crevasse he could see.  He gently traced the perpendicular lines of the scar with his fingertips, examining it from all angles. Isa sat motionless in awkward silence, waiting for the strange encounter to end so that he could go on learning to accept his disfigurement.

“Isa…” Lea was stroking his chin, gazing contemplatively at Isa’s distinct visage.  “You have beautiful skin. This is going to be fun.”

Isa couldn’t help but smile at such a compliment.  He always had very sensitive skin, and had always considered it more a burden than a beauty.  It burned in minutes when exposed to the sun, it often dried out for no discernible reason, and sometimes he’d be afflicted by a terrible itch after lightly brushing against a previously unknown irritant.  Most of his life, he just lived with it, only ever practicing any intentional skin care in the first year following the grisly injury that left him with the scar, and even that was mostly at Lea’s coaxing. He never went outside and he always wore that wretched coat, so what was the point?

_Would you just leave it alone?  It’s healing fine without your meddling._

_It’s healing fine_ because _of my meddling!  Now hold still…_

_Stop it, that stuff stings.  Just let it be._

_It’s still open.  You have to put this on it or it’ll get infected._

_Who cares?  What more harm can be done to me now?_

_Come on, Isa, don’t be like that…_

He likely had Lea’s diligent nagging to thank for such a smooth healing process.  And, as unsightly as the scar was, it still retained its perfectly straight edges, never looking any worse than it did on the first day.  Isa let his hair grow long over the next several years so that he could more easily hide it. He recalled changing his hairstyle frequently to find better ways to cover it up.  By the time he’d settled on an arrangement with which he was satisfied, he was growing to like the look of the sigil, impressed by how sinister it made him look.

Lea picked up jar after jar, holding them up to Isa’s face one by one until he settled on a shade that he thought would match.  Isa gaped at the staggering number of jars he owned, wondering where he could have kept them when they were in the Organization.  “Lea, why do you have so many of those?”

“Because I go out in the sun.  Now hold still.”

The paint was cold, but Lea’s delicate touch with the brush was mesmerizing.  Isa tried not to stare at him, but couldn’t help stealing the occasional glance.  His heart skipped whenever he caught Lea biting his lip in concentration while he decorated his canvas.  Isa had forgotten how intense his friend’s usually cheerful expression could be when he was deeply focused on something.  The contrast was striking, and it was getting even more difficult not to just watch him while he worked.

Lea switched colors and brushes several times, baffling Isa with the level of highly detailed, meticulous work he was putting into this.  Isa grew numb to the sensation of the brushes and the cold paint after awhile, but not to Lea’s masterful hand. Several times he shuddered when he felt Lea’s fingers graze his bare forehead, sweeping away his mistakes and making corrections with gentle smears.  The room suddenly felt warm and Isa began to sweat, hoping it wouldn’t interfere with Lea’s art.

After several minutes of painting in silence, Lea laid down his brushes and inspected his work.  He leaned in to blow the area dry, sending a cool chill down Isa’s spine and raising goosebumps on his skin.  He wasn’t prepared for the intoxicating sensation of Lea’s breath drifting over his flesh. Heady tension spread through Isa’s body.  All in that instant he remembered the jolt of the needle piercing his earlobe, the weight of Lea’s fingers on his legs, the overwhelming pressure that built in his core… In his surprise, he barely stifled a gasp and wondered longingly if Lea would be doing that again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  You surprised me.”

“Sorry… I’ll warn you next time.”

“Next time?”

Lea began to blush, giggling as he fidgeted with his tools.  Isa took the chance to catch his breath, shifting in his seat and warding off the bothersome impulses that tempted him.  To his dismay, he could feel his own face growing hotter, flushing with embarrassment. The tension refused to dissipate.  The pressure demanded release. It was getting harder to hide. Isa prayed that Lea wouldn’t notice.

Apparently he didn’t, because Lea continued his work as if totally oblivious to Isa’s plight.  Far from finished, he picked up another brush and a case of powder, which he began spreading over the freshly painted surface of Isa’s skin.  The brush was softer, and its bristles tickled more than the others, but it was no less pleasurable a sensation. Isa closed his eyes, fantasizing that he was somewhere else entirely, meditating alone in the moonlight or having tea in the library.  Anything that might steer his mind from the unbearable heat. It wasn’t working. He was imagining Lea’s features again. His captivating green eyes, his wild red hair, his elegant frame, his supple lips—

“Just a minute, Lea.”

Lea paused, arching an eyebrow.  “You okay?”

“I’m sorry…” Isa grasped for any excuse he could think of.  “It’s warm in here. I feel lightheaded.”

With an understanding smile, Lea sheathed his brushes and backed off.  “It’s okay. We can take a break. Sorry it’s taking so long.”

“No need to apologize…” Isa kept his eyes on the floor, clenching his fists and practically _begging_ his racing thoughts to slow down and let him breathe.  Fine, Lea was attractive. Very attractive. And fine, Isa was aroused.  Very aroused. None of this was new or foreign. Isa was supposed to be a man now.  When would he finally be able to control this? When would the urges obey his wishes?  When would these base, primitive instincts level off and let him be?

“Isa, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Lea,” Isa raised his head.  “Why do you ask?”

“You just seem like something’s bothering you.  Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

The concern in Lea’s voice was genuine, and Isa was almost grateful that his friend wasn’t privy to the internal battle he was fighting.  “It’s nothing. I’m just a little nauseated.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.  Don’t stop.  Really, I’m alright.”

After a moment to rest, Lea picked up his tools and continued to work.  He cycled through many palettes as he shaded, contoured, highlighted, and who knows what else to Isa’s face.  It was such a lengthy and complicated process that Isa almost hoped he’d hate the results, just so he could get away with never having to learn how to do all of this himself.

“You know, you’re really doing a great job helping Demyx,” Lea said, eyeing Isa with trepidation.  “But, don’t forget that you’re still adjusting to being human, and you might still have some emotions waking up that you haven’t felt in awhile.”

Isa froze.  Lea knew. It was the only explanation.  He must have been aware of what was happening.  The pink in Isa’s cheeks darkened and his mouth became so dry that he couldn’t speak.  Lea graciously kept the conversation going all on his own, offering his well-placed advice with merciful patience.  “I’m just saying, don’t forget to take care of you. Demyx will understand if you need time to work some things out for yourself.”

Isa swallowed, carefully plotting out his response.  “Thank you… I suppose you’re right. I’m not finished adjusting.  I’ve still got a lot to process.”

“Yeah…” Lea nodded, continuing with a very leading tone.  “So, if you’re struggling with something and you need help, all you have to do is ask for it.  You know I’m always here for you. You don’t have to be afraid or embarrassed, or—“

“I know,” Isa reluctantly cut him off, having no need to hear the rest.  He knew what Lea wanted, but this was a vulnerability he simply didn’t have the nerve to reveal, even to his best friend.  “I appreciate that, Lea. I promise I will come to you… once I’m ready.”

Lea smiled, resuming his art without another word.  Isa felt guilty shutting him out. He only wanted to make his newly-human friend comfortable during the most difficult period of his life.  Without Lea’s support, Isa would have fallen apart weeks ago and wound up like Demyx. He hated to keep Lea in the dark, but every time he opened his mouth to spill everything, something choked off his voice.  He just wasn’t strong enough to transcend that obstacle.

Finally, after what must have been an hour of painting and smudging and blending and powdering, Lea set aside his instruments to take a final look at his finished product.  His expression was peculiar and unreadable, and he appeared to be speechless for a moment before finally uttering a few words. “Isa… you really do have beautiful skin.”

Isa lowered his eyes bashfully.  “Finished already?”

Lea smirked.  “Take a look.”

Isa hesitated, unsure of what he could expect.  Only moments ago, he could barely stand the anticipation, eager to see what had become of his face.  Now, that it was time, he felt as if he were glued to his seat. He recalled that last moment in the tattoo parlor all those years ago when the artist handed him the mirror.  He could feel the same suspense, the same anxiety. He couldn’t predict what he might see, and wasn’t even sure what he wanted to see. Did he want to see his face looking as pure and untouched as it was before Xemnas’ punishment, or did he want to see a mediocre hack job that made him miss the good old days when the scar was his only worry?  It took some doing, but he finally coaxed himself to stand and look in the mirror.

He gasped when he saw his reflection, stunned by the image staring back at him.  There was almost no trace of the ghastly scar that dominated the center of his face for the better part of a decade.  In its place was smooth, pristine skin, as clear and flawless as the day he was born. Isa couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Lea… you really are an artist.”

Lea scoffed modestly.  “I had a lovely canvas.”

Isa resisted the urge to touch it, unwilling to ruin such exquisite work.  He leaned in to admire his bare forehead some more, searching for just a speck of imperfection and finding none.  No matter how he turned and tilted his head, no matter how he squinted his eyes or how closely he stared, he could not see a single centimeter of the scar.  Tension built inside him again, but it was very different. Isa was looking at the man he might have been. Lea had made that possible. He was moved. He was overwhelmed.  His face fell and he shook his head, blinking away the sudden rush of melancholy that burned in his eyes. “I could never keep this up.”

“I can teach you, Isa.  Or I can do it for you. I don’t mind.  If it makes you feel better…”

“I haven’t the patience to learn this, and I won’t waste your time with it.”

“Isa…”

“Lea, thank you.  It’s lovely work. But… it wasn’t meant to be.”

Lea could see how dejected Isa was, and if he knew what was good for him, he’d have left the man alone, but he wasn’t about to surrender that easily.  Not this time. “What is this really about? What brought all this up?”

There was a long pause while Isa contemplated the answer to Lea’s question.  Certainly Doctor Shad drew some attention to the scar, well-meaning as he was.  The child at the clinic — Tam — took notice of it, but only to admire it and compliment Isa on its appearance.  To his surprise, Isa realized that every encounter in which someone had mentioned the scar was a positive one. Still, he knew this couldn’t be true for everybody.

“Xion will be there…” Isa sighed, gesturing toward his mirrored self.  “She will see Saïx. I want her to see Isa. I want her to believe that Saïx is dead and gone.”

Isa had agonized over his impending apology to Xion for days.  He’d written and rehearsed several drafts of what he would say, only to toss them all out.  He dug through his wardrobe, lamenting that he owned mostly very dark apparel, reminiscent of the black coat he wore in the Organization.  He fussed over his hair, eventually deciding it looked silly in any other style. If Lea knew the amount of time and energy Isa had spent on this, he’d think the man a deranged wreck.

“I just want to put her at ease.  If I still have the scar, she might not even want to look at me, much less hear my apology…”

“She might not, that’s true,” Lea grounded him with a hand on his shoulder.  “But Xion promised to listen, regardless. You’ll still get to say your piece.”

Isa had every reason to be nervous and Lea understood it perfectly.  He was feeling a little anxious himself, knowing his dream was on the line.  All Lea wanted was for all of his friends to get along. He wanted the four of them to sit on the clock tower eating ice cream together instead of just three.  He wanted them to be inseparable, all four of them as one unit. Xion knew what that dream meant to him, and even if they had to sit on opposite sides of a brick wall, she had given her word that she’d hear what Isa had to say.

“Isa… if you want to convince her that Saïx is gone, this isn’t how to do it.  You’ll prove it with your words and your actions. She’s gotta get to know you as the man you are now.  Let her meet that man. Be yourself. Show her Isa.”

Isa gave him a weak smile before dropping his head again.  Seeing that this wasn’t a matter to be argued, Lea backed off, allowing him to process the moment however he needed.  He set a jar of clear liquid in front of him before hopping down from the counter. “This solution will wipe it off. I’m going to leave you alone with it for awhile.  Take your time and give it some thought. You don’t have to decide today.”

Lea headed for the door to give the man his space before turning back one last time.  “And Isa… I’d gladly do it again every day if it made you happy. It would never be a waste of time to me.  Get it memorized.”

Isa lost track of the time that passed as he sat in front of the mirror staring at his new face.  Several times he glanced at the bottle Lea had left. He’d gone so far as to pick up the cloth, but dropped it again, never feeling ready to let it go.  He _loved_ the sight of his face without the scar.  He’d have given anything to make this image permanent and finally be rid of that unsightly fixture once and for all.  There were options. He needed only talk with Doctor Shad. Still, he hesitated, and for the life of him, Isa couldn’t figure out why.

Crying had become routine by now.  The spells came on whenever they wanted and Isa let them, finding that they lasted longer and hurt more when he resisted.  He rested his head against the mirror, waiting for the bout to end. He practiced his emotional awareness, identifying the feelings one by one as he recognized them.  Sadness. Anxiety. Elation. Nostalgia. Foreboding. Excitement. Frustration. Arousal. _Arousal…_

It didn’t take long for the weeping to cease.  Lea’s face flashed into Isa’s mind again in all its perfection and all its splendor.  Those damned eyes. How they seized him with their charming allure. How that smile enticed him.  Isa was quickly distracted by the sudden return of that persistent and inappropriately timed impulse.  One of these days, he was going to do something about it. Perhaps he ought to do it now and get it over with.  Maybe then it would all stop. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten how, and he didn’t suppose it would take long. If it meant the curiosity would finally ebb, he’d gladly dedicate the entire afternoon.  He could lock the door. He could put on some music. He could hide under the sheets. No one would have to know...

He was just working up the courage to go through with it when he was startled by another voice at the door.  “Hey, Coach! I was just checking to see if you— whoa! Where’d your X go?”

Isa was paralyzed.  The sudden fright brought his breaths to a screeching halt.  He gulped, stalling for time as he collected himself and hastily shifted gears in his mind.  Demyx raised his hands apologetically.

“Sorry, that was insensitive.”

“No, I… I’m pleased that you noticed.  Lea covered it up. He’s quite good at it.”

Isa was still frantically trying to regain his composure when Demyx began to close in, noticing his friend’s flushed cheeks and wet eyes.  “Hey, you’re crying… what’s the matter?”

“N-nothing.  Sorry,” Isa wiped the moisture from his cheeks.  “This still just happens sometimes. I was admiring Lea’s work and became overwhelmed.”

Demyx paused at the doorway to the washroom, peering at Isa’s forehead with a wary smile.  “It really does look great. What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

“I’m trying to decide.  It looks spectacular. But it took almost an hour.  It’s an enormous commitment. I was about to wipe it all off.”

Demyx shrugged.  “Hm, well it’s up to you man.  It’s your face.” When Isa remained in place, clearly apprehensive about losing his newly clean forehead, Demyx prodded him further.  “But… maybe you should go out and see what life is like without it. See if people respond to you differently, you know? Might help you decide if you want to stick with it or not.”

Isa thought for a moment.  He had longed for just a taste of life without the scar, and now was his chance.  A few extra opinions wouldn’t hurt. There was nothing to lose. “Hmm… You’re right.  Perhaps I’ll leave it for today. Lea worked hard on it.”

“You know, I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

“I don’t think I did either.  But I realized that every time I looked in the mirror, it was the first thing I saw.  Every single time. And it just reminds me of the day I got it, and all the trauma that followed…”

Demyx was starting to feel his awkward social stuntedness.  He‘d always thought he was terrible at making people feel better and this moment was no exception.  “If it means anything, I’ve come to see it as just another part of your face. I think as far as scars go, it’s so clean cut it almost looks intentional.”

“It _was_ intentional…”

Demyx winced, shaking his head with shame.  “Sorry, my stupid mouth. I’ll shut up and let you be.”

“No, no, Demyx, don’t,” Isa reached for his young friend, his expression warming.  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and I will take your advice to heart.” He patted Demyx on the back, grateful for his attempts to placate Isa’s fears.  “What was it you needed?”

Demyx took a split second to remember why he’d come in.  “Oh, I came to see if you wanted to go shopping with us. There’s a farmer’s market downtown that Dilan’s all excited about and honestly I’m just looking for an excuse to go outside.”

Isa smiled, sliding down from the counter at last.  “All right. I’ll come along.”

He took a moment to change into clothes that would better protect him from the sun and the two of them headed into the hall and down the staircase.  Demyx led the way into the kitchen where everyone was gathered. With one cleansing breath, Isa straightened his posture and confidently stepped into the room.  His appearance was met with wide-eyed stares and gasps. After a few seconds of utter shock, it was Ienzo who broke the silence.

“Isa… you look… different.”

“Do I?  You’re imagining things.”

“How did you…?”

Lea came bursting through the door, grinning widely when he laid eyes on his canvas.  “Isa! You decided to keep it on?”

“For today.”

Lea threw an arm around his shoulders and led the way as they all left the castle, heading for town.  Isa accepted that he would probably have to learn to live with the scar. It was a punishment, a leash, a warning, and then a reminder.  Whether Lea painted it away every morning or not, it would always be there beneath the surface to remind him of his duty. To make up for lost time and be a better friend to Lea.  To help bring Demyx back to his feet. To make amends with Xion so that she could go on and live the happy life she deserved. Though their wounds may have been hidden from view, his former comrades needed to heal, too.  No one had come away from the Organization unscarred, and Isa’s mark reminded him that no matter how isolated he might feel, he was not alone. He was their hope. He was the other side. He showed them that, broken as he might be, Isa was on the mend.  He was living proof that no matter how long and painful the process might be, wounds do close and become just scars — faint echoes of trauma that they were strong enough to overcome. The recusant’s sigil represented that strength, and reminded Isa that his purpose was to fight for the people he cared about, to guide them out of hopelessness and despair, and to help them find that peace, no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting. I’ve had a sudden death in the family and have also been moving into a new house at the same time. This is one of my earlier chapters that I kept on the back burner, waiting for a good spot to place it. I can still see some of my early writing style in it. Also there’s some nice AkuSai sexual tension for my fellow shippers. <3


	14. Dionaea Muscipula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xion's mental state continues to decline, battling with an internal tempest of emotions both familiar and foreign, but she finds a semblance of peace in being with her friends.

Xion decided that she hadn’t given the moon enough credit.  At times, it could be nearly as beautiful as the sun, and it was safe to stare directly into its glow without going blind.  Having grown weary of the dull, faded appearance of Twilight Town’s perpetual sunset, she perched upon her window sill and admired the celestial counterpart to that very sun.  On this particular evening, the moon held a peculiar shape, with one side perfectly solid and the other dissipating into the darkness of the night sky, like an unfinished sphere that had been partially shaded with its signature ivory color.  It did not possess rays like the sun did — not quite. Instead, its light shot straight to the ground in soft beams, nigh undetectable to the naked eye. It was outlined with a soft corona which did not blot out the stars, but instead complemented them as an equal.  It certainly made sense that he was so drawn to it.

Tea.  Xion could only think of tea.  The sudden, inexplicable craving perplexed her, but considering that there could be no harm in doing so, she climbed off the ledge to placate it.  A brief glance at the time informed her that it was nearly three o’clock in the morning. She supposed, if nothing else, the tea would relieve the exhaustion which accompanied her persistent insomnia.  She crept to the kitchen as quietly as she could, hoping not to wake any of her roommates. It was odd, the compulsion to sneak around her own home like a child trying not to be caught out of bed by their parents, jarring to feel so lonely yet go to such lengths to avoid human contact.

The pot was set to boil and Xion leaned against the counter to wait for it to steep.  Olette had a collection of plants in the window over the sink. If Xion remembered correctly, these particular specimens were carnivorous — capable of attracting and consuming prey like predatory animals.  Some of the plants had short stems culminating in large green jaws lined with tiny outcroppings that closely resembled eyelashes. Xion had always thought they looked like little smiling mouths with long, sharp teeth.  Others had tall, hollow stalks with bright pink and red colorings, hooded on the ends to keep out the rain.

_Hooded, just like—_

Xion jumped at the sound of the kettle whistling, quickly rushing to silence it before it roused any of her housemates.  When the sound stopped, she took a moment to settle her nerves. _How silly,_ she thought, _to be startled by a teapot_.  She chided herself as she poured the contents into the ceramic mug.  Steam wafted from the cup, rising to the ceiling in elegant wisps. It smelled heavenly.  Xion had brought the warm mug all the way to the table and was staring vacantly into the liquid when she realized that she never drank tea.

It tasted fine.  A perfectly acceptable drink.  She guessed that maybe it was the warmth that gave it such a soothing quality, yet it didn’t have the same associations as other hot beverages.  Coffee was far too bitter. It made its drinkers’ hands shake and hearts race. Cocoa was more a dessert than a beverage. Most other options were seasonal, but tea could be consumed year-round.  It required no ritual or special occasion, and was just as relaxing in summer as it was in winter. Xion was slowly beginning to understand its appeal.

It was a sensible practice, drinking tea.  Meditative, in a way. Leaning over the cup and breathing in the steam had a calming effect in and of itself.  The herbal scent refreshed her spirit. There was a familiarity to the flavor, as though she had been drinking it for years.  All her life. Preposterous, of course — Xion’s life spanned little more than one year, and she couldn’t remember _ever_ drinking tea in that time.  All in all, she quite enjoyed her first cup.

She was back at the counter, pouring a second, impressed that the liquid had lost no heat.  Again, she peered over the rim of the mug into the clear surface of the tea. She saw her reflection, complete with bags under her eyes and a head unkempt black hair.  _I look like hell._ She sighed.  She blinked, about to look away when something caught her eye.  The image changed, so fast that she almost missed it. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.  Her lack of sleep. She blinked again, assuming her reflection would be restored. It stayed the same.

She wasn’t certain when she had dropped the mug, unaware she had even let go of it until she heard the crash of the ceramic shattering on the kitchen floor.  The hot liquid spilled everywhere, splashing her feet and legs. She didn’t flinch. She stood motionless, stunned. The tea collected in pools around her, surrounding her with mirrors just as cruel and tormenting as the one inside the cup.  It couldn’t be. She’d never had yellow eyes. Was it a reflection of the overhead lamp? Why was her hair lying across her forehead like that? The longer she stared at her mirrored self, the clearer it became. The person in those puddles was not Xion.  She supposed she should panic at the idea of an intruder, but was instead filled with a completely different and unexpected emotion. It boiled inside her like the kettle, screaming as it shot steam out of her like a canon.

She hadn’t realized she’d been the one making the sound, roaring like a feral beast.  Dish after dish was thrown to the floor in a blind rage. Anything to destroy that repulsive image at her feet.  She fell to her knees, slamming her fists into the pools of tea, crunching glass and clay with every blow. The chaos was so loud that she didn’t hear the intruder speaking to her.  They touched her, laying their hands on her shoulders, restraining her. She fought back. She summoned her keyblade and swung aimlessly, hoping it would collide with the interloper and send them flying.  Fingers closed around the weapon, halting her violent assault almost immediately.

“Stop it, Xion!  It’s me!”

“Get away!”

“Xion, it’s okay!  Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real!”

“All shall be lost before you!”

“What?  What are you saying?”

“Be gone!  Abandon hope!  I call on—!”

“Damn it, Xion, that’s enough!  Look at yourself!”

She froze.  She knew that voice.  Her vision was returning, from hazy to clear, blurred to focused.  She recognized the figure who had stopped her. He gripped her shoulders tightly and was glaring at her, barely masking the deep concern on his face.  There was pain in her chest, as though she’d been struck directly in the sternum. The pounding was so forceful that it knocked the wind out of her. Her body shook, and panic began to escalate inside her.  His sharp eyes softened some with pity. His fingers clasped more tightly around her shoulders.

“Everything’s alright.  It wasn’t real. You’re home and you’re safe.”

Her voice wobbled, threatening to crack.  “Roxas… D-do you feel it…?”

“Feel what?  Xion, you’re not making any sense.”

The noise began to subside and she scanned the carnage she’d wrought on the tile beneath her.  The kitchen was a wreck, covered in broken fragments of the dishes she’d hurled to the floor in panic and fury.  She was soaked in the tea she’d spilled. She stared into the puddles, only to find her own shameful reflection staring back at her.  To her horror, she noticed a slight red tinge to the liquid surrounding her.

“Did I… did I hurt you…?”

Roxas sighed.  “No. You hurt yourself.”

It was only after she’d dismissed her keyblade that she was able to see the blood running down her arm.  There was quite a lot of it, flowing from several punctures and lacerations in her skin. The damage shocked her.  She’d cut herself on one or more of the glass shards she punched, and in her rage, she had felt no pain. Now, it was really starting to sting.

“Let me see it.”

He let his hand slide down to her elbow, careful not to aggravate her injury.  She recoiled, keeping her eyes down. She couldn’t look at him. She didn't want his help.  Didn’t deserve it. He insisted, gently taking her hand to inspect the wound. It was deep. It ran from the side of her palm partway up her wrist.  There were tiny bits of glass in her hand. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember if she’d ever bled before. It was a nauseating sight to see. She turned away when she began to feel lightheaded.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Wait, Roxas, the floor…”

“The floor can wait.  Your hand comes first.”

He was patient in slowly leading her to the bathroom.  She followed him blindly, never once lifting her eyes from the ground as she walked.  She clutched her wrist, as if it were necessary to hold the limb together. The image of the blood seeping through her fingers sickened her.  She’d read about blood — it had been explained to her — but no one had warned her that she might feel this way upon watching it pour out of her own body.  Roxas was lowering her onto the toilet seat just in time for the room to start spinning.

“Okay, Xion, sit down, you don’t look so good.”

“What… is going on…?”

“Some people just get queasy when they see blood.  It’s okay. It’s not as bad as it looks. Here, put this towel on it and squeeze it tight.”

Of course.  Xion remembered learning that people have a finite amount of blood inside them, and that they could die if they lose too much of it.  While he ducked into a cabinet, she clenched the towel around her wrist until her fingers were numb, hoping it wasn’t too late for her.  She was still dizzy and trembling, wishing Roxas would come back to her. She needed him. She needed him to make her feel better. She needed him to tell her it was all a dream.

Thankfully, he wasn’t away for long.  He returned quickly with a white box full of bandages and reached for her arm.  She winced as the towel was unwrapped.

“I’m sorry.  Try and hold still.”

As disturbing as it was to see, she found that she could not look away from the grisly wounds as Roxas cleaned and dressed them.  He was plucking fragments of glass that had become embedded in her palm when her vision began to tunnel. He must have noticed that he was losing her since he caught her just before she fell over.

“Xion?  Hey, you don’t have to watch.  Just keep your eyes closed and take some deep breaths.”

She wanted to protest but her mouth was too dry to form words.  She leaned her head back and obeyed Roxas’ instructions until the vertigo began to dissipate.  She focused on the sensations in her wrist — the firm pressing of Roxas’ fingers, the light brush of the towel.  There was a cold, intense sting, accompanied by the soothing sound of Roxas’ voice. Nonsense words about preventing infection.  Kind sentiments about staying relaxed. A clearly deranged part of her didn’t want it to end.

When there was a pause in the activity, she braved a glance at the injury.  Tiny white adhesives spanned the length of the cut. Blood still flowed, but more slowly now.  Roxas sighed as he wrapped gauze all around it. “Well, I guess let’s see if this works. We can always go to the clinic in the morning if it turns out you need stitches.”

She was barely listening to him.  It didn’t matter anymore what ‘stitches’ meant.  Her cheeks were starting to flush with embarrassment when the reality of what she’d done finally came crashing down on her.  Her eyes were heavy with tears as she finally spoke. “Thank you…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

There was a pause.  Xion figured she ought to say something.  Apologize. Explain. Anything, considering what he’d done for her.  But once again she was lost for words and hadn’t a clue how she ought to articulate the powerful emotions she was battling.  Ultimately, it was Roxas who finally broke the silence. “You scared the hell out of me, Xion.”

She winced.  “I’m sorry…”

“What happened?”

She thought for a moment.  What _did_ happen?  She remembered the crashing of the ceramic mugs.  The cold tile. The liquid all around her. The unrecognizable reflection in the pools.  It was so familiar an image, yet she could not place it. “I… I’m not sure… I saw something in the tea…”

“What did you see?”

“I don’t know what I saw!”

Roxas gasped, taken aback by the outburst.  Xion regretted snapping at him immediately. Where did all this anger come from?  Why was she lashing out like this? Since when was she so overcome with unfocused rage that she could be this violent?  Why was this happening to her?

“I’m sorry… I just… I got scared and then… I don’t know what came over me…”

Her face was burning up and tears leaked from her eyes.  She lowered her head and watched them melt into the flannel of her pajamas.  Roxas was watching her — she knew it — but she refused to meet his gaze. She wished he’d go away and leave her to her shame at the same time that she wished he’d stay beside her for the rest of the night.  Afraid she might wake their other roommates with her weeping, Xion brought a hand to her mouth, biting down on her knuckles to stifle her sobs.

“Xion, wait… don’t cry,” he reached for her and she shied away.  “Everything is fine now. Whatever it was, it’s gone.”

“I attacked you…”

“You didn’t realize what you were doing.”

“How could I not recognize my best friend?”

“I’m not really sure, but…” he was wringing his hands now, clenching them into fists and shaking out the nerves.  He finally rested them at her elbows, hesitantly at first but with growing confidence as he spoke. “Xion, I’ve been really worried about you.  You haven’t been yourself since… well, since we came back. If there’s something I can do, please just tell me. Axel and me both, we care about you and we want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy.”

She meant every word of that, in her own way.  She was happy to be alive and free and to be home with her friends.  She was happy to be her own self and to have her own heart. She was happy to feel, even if it was pain.  She was never meant to exist, but she did, and she was happy and grateful for her existence.

She took a chance and locked eyes with him.  They were the very same ones she saw every day in the mirror, but as far as she was concerned, Roxas wore them better.  His glistened with compassion and warmth in a way that hers did not. Now, however, they narrowed with skepticism. He didn’t believe her.  It made sense, considering how she’d been behaving, but she had tried and failed to articulate her thoughts so many times already. Nothing ever came out as she intended.  What was the point of explaining if nobody would understand?

She examined her wrist, now covered in white bandages.  The joint was stiff and hard to move. Flexing her fingers was painful.  She cursed her loss of control, lamenting that she would be down a limb for a few days at least.  As she peered at the spots of blood leaking into the gauze, she wondered what her skin might look like when the wounds healed.  She’d never been cut before. Was this injury superficial enough to close up cleanly? Would it look smooth and clear like it was before, or would it scar?  Would she end up looking like…?

Roxas was staring at her, waiting.  He wanted to know what was on her mind.  All she could think of was that damned party.  Her mind was bombarded by thoughts of _him_.  The anticipation twisted her stomach so severely that she had begun to feel sick.  She had to relieve the pressure. She had to blow off the steam. She had to talk about it.

“Roxas, can I tell you a story?”

“Of course.”

For a moment, she wasn’t certain how to begin.  She couldn’t quite put into words how the incident in the kitchen had brought this memory up for her, but somehow knew that she _needed_ to tell this story to someone.  She trusted Roxas so well that it was an easy choice to make him her first listener.

“It was… so much more than just calling me a failure.  I could have lived with that. I could have forgiven that eventually.  But,” she closed her eyes. “It was far beyond just treating me like an empty doll.”

Xion clasped her hands to her temples.  Her head ached with the familiar rush of the traumatic memory it dug up from her past.  She wore a pained furrow in her brow as she recounted the details for her closest friend.  When Axel had brought her back to the Organization after she defected and spent time with Riku, preparing to return her memories whence she’d inadvertently stolen them, Saïx was positively livid.  When she woke from unconsciousness, she was still in the holding tank, completely submerged. She wasn’t supposed to wake up until she was released. She couldn’t breathe. She stared through the glass at him, certain he was going to stand there and watch her drown.  Finally, he drained the water, and she fell to the floor in a heap, coughing and sputtering while he stared down at her with pure malice in his eyes.

_“You are becoming quite a problem for us, Number XIV.”_

Xion, still shaken from being trapped in the holding tank, was too breathless to speak.  She dropped her head, panting and shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself, warming her skin and covering her nakedness.

_“Get up.”_

Saïx grabbed her by the hair and forcibly yanked her to her feet.  She cried out in shock and pain, but he ignored it. With his fist clenched at her scalp, he turned her face up to meet his menacing glare.  He was silent for several seconds as his scalding rage pierced through to her bones. He spoke in a deep growl, so soft that she strained to hear.

_“I don’t know what it is Xemnas sees in you.  If it were up to me, you’d be back in that wretched laboratory, in pieces.  We should have disposed of you long ago.”_

With a look of repulsion on his face, he flung her to the ground several feet away where she slammed into a nearby desk, hitting her head hard enough to see stars.  She pulled up her knees, hugging them to her chest and trembling violently. Saïx approached her with slow, deliberate steps, his expression now laced with searing contempt.  Xion cowered under his imposing form, anticipating another assault. She buried her face, hiding from him in the only way that she could, dreading what he would do to her next.  To her surprise, he tossed her a black Organization coat.

_“Put it on.  Your appearance sickens me.”_

She couldn’t believe it.  They were going to let her back into the Organization?  After everything she’d done? She hastily slipped the coat on, grateful at least for its warmth.

_“Your beloved Axel and Roxas await you with bated breath.  And if you want them to stay that way, you will not disappoint me again.”_

When she was dressed, he grabbed her wrist and lifted her to her feet once more, tightening his grip when she struggled against his clutches.

_“Mark my words.  This is your last chance, Xion.”_

She supposed it was being crumpled on the kitchen floor, wet and surrounded by broken glass that had triggered the memory.  She’d been in such a position more times than she could count, and every time, Saïx was the first to greet her with anything from a disdainful glare to a heavy backhand.  The violent outbursts were rare, but she quickly learned to anticipate them every time she found herself alone with him.

Several seconds of silence passed before Roxas offered a response to her devastating tale.  “Xion… I’m so sorry. I should have protected you. I had no idea that he—“

“No, Roxas.  That isn’t the point,” she took a breath.  “Saïx wasn’t very nice to any of us, but he didn’t look upon me with passive indifference.  It was _contempt._ It was _personal._ ”  She shuddered, forcing herself to finish the thought.  “Every time I woke up in that tank, his was the first face I saw.  From the very first time to the very last. And when I see him… it will be hard not to go back to that place.”

His hand gripped her shoulder.  “I understand. Look… if it’s causing you this much distress, you don’t have to come.  Axel will understand. I can talk to him—“

“I have to go.  I have to put this to rest,” her eyes closed tensely like a grimace.  “I have to know why he treated me like that. I have to.”

“Tell me what I can do.”

She shook her head in defeat.  “I don’t know… I just don’t know…”

“Well, Xion… you could ask him.”

She shuddered and he took her hand.  His voice was so soft and so deep that she almost didn’t recognize it as his.  “I know you’re scared. But it’s the only way.”

“I just… what if…?”

“Remember, Xion, you don’t owe him a damn thing.  He’s going to say his piece and he’s going to apologize and he expects _nothing_ in return.  Some of that stuff he did is downright unforgivable, and he’s prepared to accept that and live with the consequences.  He only wants to say that he’s sorry.”

This was a losing battle.  Her lip began to quiver and she clenched her jaw to steady it.  She couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks again.  Roxas whisked them away without a second thought, leaving a tiny vibrating jolt where he’d touched her.  The heat spread almost immediately, flushing the skin on her face. She turned away to hide the affliction from him, praying that he hadn’t noticed.

“I will say this, though…” Roxas gave her fingers a light squeeze.  “If you do ask him, you should be prepared for an answer you won’t like.  There’s never a good reason for things like that, so you might wind up feeling disappointed.”

She let her head drop as her courage faded away.  Maybe she didn’t want to know after all. Maybe she’d feel worse knowing the real reason than she felt now.  Maybe it was better to be in the dark. “I guess I shouldn’t bother…”

“I think you should.  If it’ll make you feel better.”

“It’s going to be hard enough just being in the same room as him.  I don’t even know how I’ll approach him. I don’t want to look at him, but I don’t want to turn my back on him either.”

Roxas was quiet for a moment before appealing to her.  “He really isn’t scary anymore, Xion.”

She could only gasp at such a claim, and he hurriedly backed it up.  “You know,” he continued. “I think he’s more afraid of you than you are of him.  He doesn’t have that intimidating, sinister aura he used to have. He’s shockingly gentle now.  He’s shy. He’s under confident. Does any of that sound like Saïx?” he smiled and gave her fingers a light squeeze.  “He has the same face, but that’s _all._ Everything else about him is different.  You’ll see it. You’ll know.”

Something clicked as she heard those words.  _You’ll know._ He _knew_ what she would see, for he had seen it already with the same eyes.  The eyes they had always shared. His confidence was as strong as it ever was.  This was the same Roxas who had picked up her slack when she lost her power, who loaned her his keyblade and defended himself with a lowly stick instead, who swallowed down his own reservations and put her out of her misery when she asked him to.  He’d risked everything for her, and he’d do it all over again without hesitation if it were necessary. She trusted him. She trusted his eyes, his words, his judgment, his instincts — he wouldn’t let her walk off a ledge without a harness. He wouldn’t let her get hurt.  He was her best friend. She had to trust him on this, too.

She lifted her hand to reach for him, to clasp his shoulder in appreciation, but quickly dropped it with a gasp.  There was visible concern on his face. “Does it hurt?”

It hurt terribly.  But she felt weak and humiliated enough without complaining about the injury she’d caused herself.  She kept quiet and shook her head. “It’s not that bad.”

Roxas cupped her chin and smiled knowingly.  “I’ll get you something for it. That way you’ll be able to sleep.”

“Roxas, I—”

She cut herself off, not really sure where that sentence would have ended.  Perhaps there wasn’t a way to ask for what she needed. She wanted for them to just stay here in the bathroom like this forever.  At least here, she felt safe. She could convince herself that no one else in the world existed. There was no Saïx, no Xehanort, nobody else but the two of them.  There was a sense of security in that fantasy. Roxas waited, but soon grinned again, apparently able to read her face like a billboard. Were her thoughts and feelings really so obvious to him?  Maybe it was their special connection through Sora that gave him such a keen intuition about her. Or maybe…?

“Go pick out a crappy movie for us to fall asleep to and wait for me on the sofa.  I’ll be right there once I finish cleaning the kitchen.”

“But Roxas, I should help—”  
“You’re hurt.  You rest. Make sure the movie is _hilariously_ bad.”

Xion couldn’t help but giggle.  Roxas had nothing to gain from helping her like this.  There was no reason for him to stay up all night with her just to stand guard against her demons of loneliness and fear.  In fact, if she recalled correctly, Roxas had to work tomorrow, yet here he was, thinking only of her and her needs and her welfare, undeserving as she might have felt.  How could she ever repay him for his kindness?

He offered his hand for her and she took it without any fuss, letting him lead her to the sofa where she could make herself comfortable.  She sat rigidly at first, wary of such intimacy as this, but Roxas was mercifully patient as always. He sat beside her and refused to leave until she appeared relaxed.  When he let go of her hand to take care of the mess in the kitchen, she missed the warmth almost immediately. Even knowing he was just in the other room, only meters away, she couldn’t stand his absence.  As she shuffled through the movies, her mind wandered over and over, only to settle on him. The anticipation of his return was suffocating. Xion had been positive that she’d experienced the full range of human emotions even in her short lifetime, but this one was completely foreign to her.  Just what was it? Why did it feel so good and hurt so badly at the same time? Why was it so exhilarating and yet so terrifying? She wanted to hate it, but even more she hated the idea of losing it. She was dizzy again, and her heart accelerated until she could feel it in her ears. Perhaps she had lost more blood than she’d thought.

She decided that she would talk to Olette.  Olette was loaded with knowledge and literature on almost every subject, and was a fantastic tutor.  Surely, she could explain this phenomenon in such a way that even Xion could understand. Besides, she was a girl.  It would only feel right to ask another girl. Perfect. It was perfect. Xion took a breath. Everything was settled.  With a plan in mind, and a movie paused on the television, she could finally relax into the cushions and feign a sense of calm as she waited for Roxas to join her.

* * *

“So you think you saw him — that Saïx guy — in the tea?”

“Well yes but not exactly,” Xion paused, trying to figure out how to explain.  “It was my face but it wasn’t me. It was my reflection but it _felt_ like…”

“Like him?”

“Sort of.”

When Xion finally worked up the nerve to take inventory of the kitchen the next morning, she discovered that she had broken four mugs, three plates, and a glass bowl.  She invited Olette to come along with her to replace them, thrilled that she wasn’t angry over the destroyed belongings. They were now in a gift shop with a colorful abstract decor, browsing the shelves while Xion recounted the evening’s events for her curious roommate.

“And that’s the guy who wanted to talk to you, right?”

“Right.  He, uh… he wasn’t very nice to me before and I guess he wants to apologize.”

“That’s interesting.  I wonder what changed his mind.”

It only made sense that Olette wouldn’t quite understand the situation, though she had certainly tried.  The idea of a human losing their heart, becoming a different person, and then getting it back simply wasn’t a subject that she could study.  The concept seemed so ludicrous as to not even be real, and it never really clicked in her mind. Roxas and Xion figured after awhile that they were probably explaining it poorly, neither of them certain that they quite understood it themselves.

“Well anyway, I’m really glad Roxas was there to bring you back to your senses.  You could have been really seriously hurt. Way worse than that cut for sure.”

“Yeah…” Xion had been staring into space, not really paying any attention to the dishes she was supposed to be examining.  She absentmindedly rubbed her injured wrist, almost certain that she could feel Roxas’ fingers pressing on the adhesive closures.  “He was really helpful. I don’t know why he puts up with me.”

“Well you two are best friends!  Why wouldn’t he?”

Best friends.  She was right. Xion had lots of best friends.  Roxas, Axel, Olette… except Roxas seemed to have a different association.  She certainly didn’t feel the same about Axel or Olette as she did about him.  It was as if he belonged on a higher tier. Was there a step above best friends?

“Xion?  Yoo-hoo!  You in there?”

Xion blinked, jolted out of her distracted state.  Olette was showing her a set of vibrant mixing bowls — plastic ones instead of glass.  She nudged her friend with a raised eyebrow. Xion stammered a bit before answering. “S-Sorry.  You’re right. I guess that’s just what friends do.”

“Yup!” Olette exclaimed in a bubbly voice.  “Why don’t we try that other store across the way?  I like their style better.”

They left the shop empty-handed and made their way across the street toward a gift shop with a slightly more exotic theme to its merchandise.  Along the way, they came across a small kiosk featuring an assortment of potted plants. Olette jumped at the sight of it, squealing with delight.

“Oh!  Look at that!  It’s a _nepenthes_ hybrid!”

“A what?”

“Come and see!”

Olette hurried over to the cart to admire the plant and Xion followed closely behind.  The plant hung low over the edge of its pot in colorful pods of deep crimson and magenta.  “It’s a tropical pitcher plant. I’ve always wanted one of these!”

Xion bent down to get a better look at one of the larger pods, captivated by the radiant hues around the lip of its pitcher.  She supposed that those very colors were what attracted the plant’s prey, and were she an insect, she’d have been captured already.  “It’s really pretty. And it catches bugs too?”

“Yeah!  They fall inside the pitcher here.  It’s a cool process.”

One glance at the price tag made it clear why Olette did not own such a plant, but that didn’t stop her fawning over it.  She spouted random facts about almost every plant they could see like a talking encyclopedia. The majority of it was well beyond Xion’s level of comprehension, but she couldn’t help smiling as she listened to her rambling.  It was heartwarming to see her so excited about something.

As they circled the cart, they came around to a shelf full of Venus fly traps which Xion recognized from Olette’s collection on the kitchen windowsill.  There were dozens of different varieties, more than Xion could ever have guessed. Some had tall stalks and enormous traps while others had a short, leafy appearance.  Some were a bright green color while others were such a dark shade of red that they looked purple. They really were lovely specimens, and Xion could understand their appeal.  She was about to pass them by when she caught sight of a small one that appeared to have brown leaves and droopy stalks. Its traps were covered in black spots and curling in on themselves.  The plant was withering, and Xion was struck by a pang of sadness as she gazed at it. Where its companions stood tall and seemed to be reaching for the sunlight, this one appeared to have given up, its arms having atrophied and grown too tired to try any longer.  She wished she could just look away, but her eyes stuck on the wilting plant, as if her attention were the only thing preventing its shriveling up from loneliness.

“Xion?  What’s the matter?”

She gasped, startled to find Olette standing beside her.  Her friend’s face shifted from curiosity to worry the instant they locked eyes.  “Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Xion hastily dragged her wrist across her cheeks, but it was too late.  She’d been caught red-handed and now Olette was awaiting an explanation.  “Nothing’s wrong… I’m sorry…”

Olette’s face fell at the rejection and she placed a hand on Xion’s shoulder.  “Did something happen? Was it something I said?”

“No!  No, it wasn’t anything to do with you.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry…”

Olette peered at the withering plant that had caused Xion so much distress.  Her posture slumped and she clicked her tongue. “Poor thing. It’s buried behind all of its taller companions here.  It can’t reach the light.” She cocked her head at Xion. “Is this what made you sad? The dying fly trap?”

Xion took a breath, prepared to respond, but instead of answers, all she had was more questions.  “Don’t be silly. Why would a plant make me sad?”

Olette stared for a moment before her eyes lit up with an apparent idea.  She took Xion’s hand. “Here, Xion, let me show you something.”

She was gently led to the other side of the cart where a tall fly trap plant was blooming proudly, towering over its neighbors.  Its colors were vivid and beautiful, and it looked to be one of the healthiest plants on display. “This one is called King Henry.  They’re known to grow pretty tall and have big traps. But take a look down here.”

She gestured toward one of its rear stalks.  It was mostly black and decidedly dead. Xion raised an eyebrow, wondering just what was the point of this little expedition.

“This guy is alive and well, but this pod here has clearly died.  I’d guess that it had its trapping mechanism triggered too many times and its energy was just drained.  It happens. Venus fly traps grow tons more of these, and when the pods have had enough, they die and make room for new growth.”

Xion watched the King Henry plant for a while longer, hoping she might witness its trapping mechanism in action.  There weren’t many insects in the busy town square, but with a fruit stand just down the way, there were likely to be _some_ flying pests nearby.  Olette smiled and guided her around to another section of the kiosk where she pointed toward a collection of pitcher plants with large, tubular stems.  This particular species was bright red in color with white spots, and each stem was hooded at the top just like the ones in their kitchen windowsill. Olette beckoned Xion to observe a smaller specimen that appeared to be drying out, its pitchers mostly a faded yellow color and having a wrinkled appearance.

“This one looks to be in pretty bad shape, but check this out,” she brought Xion’s hand to its pot and pressed her fingers into the soil.  “The soil is pretty dry, right? All this guy needs is some water and he’ll perk right back up. As long as you can still see green on the leaves, there’s still hope.”

Xion was starting to get the message as she followed Olette back around to the original fly trap that had disturbed her.  Her cheerful friend lifted the pot from the shelf and held it up to Xion’s face. Wary but hopeful, she leaned in to examine it, and upon closer observation, she could see something at the base of the stems.  So tiny that she almost missed them, Xion found little curled shoots growing from its center rhizome -- a bright, healthy green.

“You see, Xion, it’s not too late.  This one’s hanging on by a thread, but it can still be saved.  It just needs a little extra care.” She moved the pot to a more open area where it could be fully immersed in the sunlight.  “There we go. With enough light, in a couple weeks it’ll be as good as new.”

Xion smiled as she watched the plant drink in the sun’s rays.  She couldn’t stop staring at the tiny shoots, as if waiting for them to grow tall enough to replace their wilted companions.  She sighed when she felt Olette’s hand on her back. “Thank you, Olette.”

“Don’t mention it.  You know, the owner probably moved this guy to the back when he realized it was dying.  Wilted plants don’t exactly sell. In a way, Xion, you’ve saved its life.”

Those were the words that finally broke her.  Her throat now too tight to thank her again, Xion stood and hugged her friend tightly.  Olette giggled at the surprise, but hugged her back without question. When they finally parted, Xion was wiping her eyes again and still unable to speak, so Olette gladly did all the talking for both of them.  “Some say that carnivorous plants are very sensitive,” she shrugged. “And in a way, they are. You have to get their environment just right, and most people aren’t prepared for the amount of direct sunlight and high humidity that these guys need.  But if you work hard and give them lots of love, they grow to be beautiful companions. They’re delicate, but not impossible.”

It was in that moment that Xion decided to purchase the plant.  She didn’t know the first thing about keeping a plant alive, but she _had_ to see this one grow to its full potential.  She smiled down at its little baby shoots and was completely infatuated.  This simple flower was exactly what she needed. She needed that symbol of hope.  She needed another living thing to be with her when she was lonely. She needed something that would greet her with a smile every morning.  This fly trap would fill that void. Xion had made a new friend -- one who would recover alongside her and remind her to keep reaching for the light.

_Well, little guy, if you’re gonna hang on, then I will too._

The rest of the afternoon was spent happily bouncing from store to store, making the occasional purchase and chatting about everything and nothing.  When the sun began to set, they stopped for dinner in a tiny ramen place on the corner of the plaza. Xion had set her new plant companion out on the table while they ate, earning some odd looks from other restaurant goers.  Olette only laughed and nudged her friend. “So, what are you going to call it?”

Xion had been picking at her noodles, distracted by her own thoughts.  “Hmm?”

“All my plants have names!  What will you call yours?”

“Oh.  Uh…” Xion swirled the broth around with her chopsticks.  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”

The more time passed, the more aware Xion became of its running out.  She remembered that she had intended to ask Olette about Roxas, but when she tried to spit it out, she quickly lost her confidence and said something else entirely.  Just remembering the events from the previous night caused a fluttering sensation in her chest. She stayed paralyzed, aimlessly fiddling with her dinner while the emotions swirled in her mind.

Olette arched an eyebrow.  “Xion? Your food’s gonna get cold.  Don’t you like it?”

Xion loved this dish, but had no appetite.  “I guess I’m just not hungry.”

“Are you okay?”

The warmth was back.  The warmth that spread under her skin when Roxas touched her.  Her wrist was stinging again, as if longing for him to soothe it.  She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know what was happening.

“Olette,” she asked, meekly.  “What does it mean when you can’t stop thinking about someone?”

Olette froze, mulling it over for a moment.  “Well, I need more information. How do you _feel_ when you think of this person?”

Xion pondered, searching for the right word.  Nothing in her vocabulary seemed accurate enough to describe it.  “Jittery.”

Olette’s jaw dropped with an exaggerated gasp.  “Have you got a crush on someone?!”

“A what?”

“Is it Roxas?  Oh tell me it’s Roxas, you two would be so cute together!”

“W-wait Olette, you’ve lost me…”

She flattened her palms on the table and lowered her voice.  “You _like_ Roxas, don’t you?”

“Well of course I like him, he’s my best friend.”

Her mouth curled into a grin.  “But you want him to be more, right?”

Xion felt that same flutter in her chest again.  “How… did you know that…?”

Olette squealed, clapping her hands giddily.  “Oh Xion I’m so happy for you!”

“What?  Why?”

“Because that jittery feeling is an early stage of _love_ , Xion!”

 _Love?  Really?_ “That’s crazy, we’re too young for that.”

“No you’re not!  Romeo and Juliet were like sixteen and thirteen.  You’re totally old enough for love.”

“Who?  Romeo and…?”

“Oh, _Romeo and Juliet_ is a play by William Shakespeare.  It’s, like, the industry standard representation of true love.”

Xion chuckled, shocked to see Olette so worked up over a simple love story.  “I see… so they’re just fictional characters, then?”

She scoffed.  “Well, yeah, but that’s not the point.  The point is that true love doesn’t care how old you are or what family you come from or anything like that.  It strikes when you least expect it and it’s _supposed_ to bring people together.”

Olette suddenly had a nervous look about her, as if she were hiding something.  Xion decided not to pry, instead hoping she might learn a thing or two about love if she were to see the text of this play.  Maybe then things would start to make sense. “Shakespeare… is there anywhere I can read this stuff?”

“I’ve got a book at home you can borrow.  You’ll love it!”

Xion wanted to be skeptical, but wanted more to relax and put the troublesome thoughts out of her mind.  She exhaled, letting her shoulders fall into a slump. “Thank you, Olette. For everything.”

Her thanks were met with a warm smile.  “We have to do this more often. I’ve really missed you, Xion.  It’s so great having a friend who’s a girl.”

What Xion wouldn’t have given to take Olette to Radiant Garden with her.  The girl had such a knack for easing her friend’s worries that Xion couldn’t imagine subjecting herself to such stress without her there.  Olette was a comforting presence in her life. She was patient as she taught Xion all the lessons a teen her age ought to already know. She was kind in her zeal to ease her friend through the awkward transition into humanity.  She was understanding when things went wrong and supportive when things went right. Her friendship was a valuable asset, and Xion couldn’t have been more appreciative of her affection.

They finished their meal and collected their belongings, heading out the door with laughter and conversation just as before.  Xion felt so natural and human when she talked to Olette. It didn’t matter what crazy things she had to say — her friend took it all in stride and countered with something just as weird.  It was a refreshing sensation to have someone around who was so _easy_ to open up to.  For a moment, Xion enjoyed a glimpse of what she could only describe as hopefulness.  And, as they trotted home, arm in arm and with her new plant in tow, she was overtaken by another feeling — one she hadn’t felt in a long while.  Belonging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks for the reviews and kudos. This story means so much to me. I never thought I had it in me to write anything but here we are, over 30 chapters among all 3 of my stories. This chapter personally hit a lot of emotional notes with me as I grieve the death of a grandparent and an old friend. Writing is carrying me through. Thank you for the support. I love what I do and I love where this is going.


	15. A New Normal: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come when Isa must make his apology to Xion, but first, he is greeted by an unexpected visitor.

No matter how long Isa stood in front of the mirror, picking at his clothes and adjusting his hair, he supposed he’d never really be pleased with his appearance.  No matter how much time he spent waiting on the other side of the door to the courtyard, he would never quite feel ready to cross the threshold. No matter how he stalled, time was going to run out on him.  The party had started, and people were probably wondering where he was. Sooner or later, he was going to have to go out there.

Step one was to creep through the doorway undetected.  Isa slipped between the double doors and slunk to the side as soon as he was clear.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed that no one had seen him enter. Step two was to locate Lea.  Isa didn’t need to follow him around like a lost puppy, but he needed to keep Lea in sight if he ever wanted to relax.  He scanned the area and found him across the courtyard with Ventus and Roxas back to back, apparently measuring the identical boys to determine which was taller.  Step three was to find a place to hide. He didn’t need to be entirely concealed from view, but preferred to stay off to the side where he could be lost in peoples periphery, hidden just enough so that no one would notice him.  The courtyard was a wide open space, but there was a large fountain in the center, surrounded by a stone border and several decorative columns. Isa sidled toward the fountain and cautiously lowered himself beside one of the columns, trying to appear comfortable listening to the water.  He sat tensely like a cat ready to pounce, watching the other attendees intently to ensure that none of them approached his position. These confounded gatherings just never got any easier. Isa was in for a long night.

His thoughts never stopped racing for an instant.  Now he supposed that people would find it  _ weird _ that he hid in the shadows staring awkwardly at them instead of interacting with them like a  _ normal human _ .  Perhaps he should go and stand beside Lea and pretend to be sociable.  But then they might think he was too codependent. Perhaps he should lounge somewhere more conspicuous and act natural.  But then what if someone actually came to talk to him? Perhaps he should just run to the washroom and stay there until it was over.  Maybe if they didn’t see him, they’d forget he existed. Isa’s legs were shaking. His palms began to feel clammy. He was so engrossed in his nervous spiral that he didn’t notice that he was being approached.

“Hey, Coach!  I was wondering when you were gonna come down here.”

Isa jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of Demyx, plucking softly at a guitar.  The musician backed away with his hands up in surrender, taken aback by Isa’s skittish reaction.  “Whoa, didn’t mean to scare ya. You doing okay, man?”

Isa cleared his throat, relaxing his posture and forcing a casual demeanor.  “Sorry. I, uh… crowds.”

Demyx grinned and took a seat, giving Isa a friendly pat on the shoulder.  “Not really a party animal, are ya?”

“I never was,” Isa sighed.  “Social interaction was always Lea’s forte.” He glanced around, realizing he’d lost track of his friend and anchor.  “Speaking of, where did he go?”

Demyx rubbed his forehead, thinking.  “Uh… Oh, I think I saw him take off to the back with Roxas and that other kid who looks like Roxas.”

“Ventus.”

“Right, right,” Demyx resumed strumming the guitar he’d brought.  “By the way, that’s totally freaky. Are they long lost twins or something?”

“It’s much more complicated than that.”

Demyx shrugged.  “Well anyway, I think they were going to play frisbee.”

Isa resisted the urge to go after them, chastising himself for the compulsion to run away like a scared child separated from his mother.  Lea wasn’t that far and Isa was perfectly safe with Demyx. For now, he endeavored to put a leash on his anxieties and enjoy the young man’s company.   _ Like a normal human _ .

“Demyx, how have you been feeling?”

“Me?  Eh, some days I’m on top of the world, other days feel like they won’t end.  I’m hanging in there, though.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “It’s actually been kinda refreshing to have a clear head.  Helps me write music better.”

“Wait, is that a guitar you’re playing?”

Demyx scoffed, cycling through a series of power chords.  “Well what’d you think I was, a one-trick pony? Come on, dude, if it’s got strings, I can play it!”

“How about the violin?  The harp?”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have it figured out.”

Isa chuckled, unsurprised by Demyx’s admirable talent and well-honed skills.  “Alright, Mozart. Color me impressed. So, why the guitar today?”

“It’s a party!” Demyx retorted with a brazen lick high on the neck of his instrument, finishing on an exaggerated bend.  “Guitar is easier on crowds. Besides, ladies love guitarists.”

He went on to pick out a simple, pleasant-sounding melody.  Repetitive, but easy on the ears. He reworked it as he experimented, tweaking rhythms and intervals seemingly at random.  He fit the pieces together like a puzzle, flowing smoothly from one phrase to the next, not once ever playing a sour note.

“Say, Coach, what are all those glowy things flying around in the air?”

Isa started, stunned by the question. “Fireflies.  You’ve never seen a firefly?”

“Never seen anything like it.  So they’re little bugs that light up?  How do they do that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hmm, fireflies… there’s a song in that…”

He went back to work constructing his song, humming along as he played and trying out the occasional lyric.  It was fascinating to watch Demyx build his music in real time, and Isa was stunned by the quality of the performance even in this early stage.

“Are you just making that up right now?”

There was a pause.  Demyx seemed surprised by Isa’s inquiry, as if he’d been asked about the way he brushed his teeth or tied his shoes — activities so instinctual and unconscious that he hadn’t put much thought into his technique.  “Well, sure. That’s how you write music. You just noodle around until you find something genius.”

Isa arched an eyebrow in disbelief.  “ _ That’s _ your method?”

“Dude, that’s why I’m  _ always _ playing!  You never know when greatness will strike.”

He went back to composing his piece, forming his lyrics into a sweet story about a lovesick firefly sending romantic notes to his mate with flickering patterns of his light.  The word choices were clever, and the music was perfectly engaging, neither too simple as to be boring or too complicated as to be inaccessible. Isa closed his eyes and listened as Demyx sang softly to himself.  Demyx used to sing rather obnoxiously in the grey area, but this more subdued style was particularly nice to hear in contrast. His voice had a clear timbre and seemed to float through his melodies smoothly and effortlessly.  Isa wished that he could sing. Lea had always been an excellent singer, encouraging him to join many times, even knowing that his friend was hopelessly tone deaf. Isa usually kept his mouth shut, preferring to listen and refusing to ruin Lea’s impromptu performances.

“Okay, talk to me, Coach.  Are you sick or something? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

Isa hadn’t realized that, although Demyx’s music was relaxing, he was still tense and shivering with anticipation.  “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Jeez, is my playing that bad?”

“No, that’s not it,” Isa breathed deep.  It didn’t help. “Xion is here somewhere.  We are supposed to talk.”

Demyx nodded slowly.  “Oohhh I see. Well, listen, don’t expect her to come around right away.  These things take time.”

Isa let his head sink into his hands.  “I just don’t want to make anything worse.”

“I don’t think you will,” the music paused and Demyx laid a hand on Isa’s back.  “But if you do, hey, at least you tried, right? That’s all that matters.”

Isa lifted his face and smiled meekly at him.  He had practiced his apology to Xion in front of Demyx so many times that the kid could probably recite it back to him by now.  He regretted that his reconciliation with the young musician had been so informal and unrehearsed. Demyx deserved better than that, but despite its hasty and sloppy delivery, he accepted Isa’s apology quickly and without any grudge.  He was just that way, Isa supposed. Far too easy going to carry baggage like that for no reason other than bitterness. Isa aspired to that level of chill.

“Who’s that?”

Isa’s heart stopped when he heard Demyx’s question.  Someone was coming their way. He swallowed, nearly choking on his own panic, squinting into the distance at the figure approaching them.  It took a moment to identify the person — someone he recognized but had never spoken to. “That’s Aqua.”

“See?  I told you ladies love guitarists!”  Demyx began to show off on his instrument, playing fast runs and boisterous rhythms until Isa laid a hand on his arm to silence him.  “Why don’t you go and show the others your new song?”

Demyx smiled, getting the message quickly and rising from his seat.  “Later, Coach! And hey,” he locked eyes on Isa with a serious but reassuring expression.  “You got this, man.”

With a breath and a nod, Isa watched him go.  His mind began to spin again, but there was no time for panicking now.  Aqua was standing right in front of him, greeting him with a friendly wave.   _ As normal people do. _

“I never thought I’d meet another person with blue hair.”

She smiled politely before taking a seat on the bench beside him.  Isa instinctively crossed a leg over his knee, a guarded position he hadn’t used since the Organization.  Surprisingly, he felt no more at ease than he did before, and he wondered to himself how he’d spent over ten years sitting so uncomfortably.

_ Words.  Say words.   _ “I’ve heard we’re quite rare.  So much so that we could all be traced back to one distant ancestor.”

“Would that make us cousins?”

Isa grinned, relieved that Aqua was setting a lighthearted tone.  “Sure. Works for me.”

Aqua continued to lead the conversation with relative ease, as if idle small talk with perfect strangers were something she did every day.  “Did your parents have it?”

Isa blinked, pausing when he realized he couldn’t entirely answer her question.  His mother always had very dark brown hair, so dark that it would appear black in certain light.  Since his father had deserted them so early, he didn’t know what the man looked like. In her resentment, his mother never kept a single photo of him.  It saddened Isa to think that if he ever were to meet the man, he wouldn’t recognize him.

“I never knew my father.  But my mother didn’t.”

Aqua’s face fell and guilt glistened in her eyes.  “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.”

She hesitated, but recovered shortly and resumed their chat, absentmindedly twirling the azure locks around her fingers.  “Neither of my parents did, so I guess it must be a recessive trait. I wonder if we’ll go gray in old age like other people.”

Isa balked at the idea, flipping a stray chunk of his own hair back over his shoulder.  “I hope not. I’ve worked too hard for this.”

Aqua giggled.  “It suits you.”

They sat in silence for a time, just listening to the lapping of the fountain and the laughter of the crowd.  They watched the sun slowly sink toward the horizon, admiring the shadows of their friends as they extended farther and farther across the ground, dancing around as their owners dragged them along with every step.  Lea was tossing a frisbee between Ventus and Roxas, all three of them sprinting about to catch it as it sailed away. Demyx had finished the song he’d been composing and was performing it for the group. Riku and Terra were deep in conversation, whispering in a distant corner much like Isa and Aqua.  Aqua smiled widely, gesturing toward their friends.

“Everyone looks so happy.”

Isa shrugged.  “They won. I suppose it’s only fair that they should get to celebrate their victory.”

“You won too, you know.”

He broke into a shy smile.  “In a way, I suppose.”

Aqua hummed and curiously raised an eyebrow.  “I wonder when they’ll take off their masks.”

“Masks?”

“The ones they wear to hide their pain,” she dipped her fingers into the fountain, letting the cool water run over her skin.  “It would be nice if life could be so simple. Defeat the bad guy, go home and celebrate, live happily ever after. Seldom does anyone acknowledge the wounds left behind after the battle.”

Isa could concede that there was some truth to her words.  These people had been through a lot. The second Keyblade War would have undoubtedly taken an emotional toll on at least  _ some  _ of them.  He guessed that even his most cheerful friends could be engaged in secret battles with their own trauma, unbeknownst to their companions, but he failed to see the harm in accepting that life goes on and in trying to make the most of what they had left.  Maybe they were all hurting, but Isa figured an evening spent playing frisbee with friends could be just as viable a remedy as anything else, if only for awhile.

“That’s true,” he acknowledged.  “But perhaps they’re not so much hiding it as attempting to move past it.  Sometimes, all you can do is just go on with your life and take it little by little.  The sun still rises every morning, so we may as well bask in it.”

When her expression seemed skeptical and uncertain, Isa continued.  “With time, a painted-on smile can eventually evoke a real one. Maybe they’re all just trying to heal in the only way they know how.”

Aqua took a moment to think on his response.  She nodded her agreement with a solemn look. “That makes sense.  I wish I could help. Healing spells are second nature to me. I’d heal them all in a heartbeat if I could.  But no spell works on this… I can only do my part to promote healing the old fashioned way.”

Isa turned to face her, perplexed by the topic she had chosen.  “Did you come to me because you sensed that I was in pain and needed healing?”

She smiled and shook her head.  “No. I came to commend you for coming down here without a mask.”

Isa couldn’t help but smile at such a response.  In a way, she had answered in the affirmative  _ and _ the negative.  Without saying as much, she indicated that although she hadn’t come to interfere, she was no fool and could quite easily read Isa like a book.  He wore his emotions openly and unapologetically now, unable to hide them even if he’d wanted to. She could no doubt sense his guilt and anxiety, but had no intention to impose on his personal journey toward healing unless he asked for it.  She had only come to admire him for his courage, and for that Isa was very grateful.

“You know, you should talk to Terra.”

Isa blinked, having gotten momentarily lost in thought.  “Terra?”

“I think the two of you have a lot in common.  He is also struggling to come to terms with his past.  Perhaps he can impart some of his wisdom on you.”

Isa wasn’t certain how he should respond to her suggestion.  From what he knew, Terra had connections to both Xemnas and Xehanort, having been possessed by one and turning into the other.  It was said that Terra now possessed all of Xemnas’ memories, but Isa had hoped that to be just a rumor and that every trace of Xemnas was lost to the void where it damn well belonged.

Aqua waited patiently, neither expecting nor needing a reply, but remaining engaged so that Isa would feel comfortable one way or the other.   _ Bless her _ .

“I’d like to ask you something, Aqua.”

She nodded and Isa posed his question.  “Do you resent Terra?”

There was a pause while Aqua pondered his inquiry.  She let her head fall back, gazing up at the sky in thought.  “I did for awhile. When I was stuck in the realm of darkness.  But not anymore.”

“What changed your feelings?”

Her mood began to shift.  Her eyes were downcast and her shoulders slowly sank.  Isa sincerely hoped he hadn’t upset her. “I saw him when I was down there.  Or a phantom of him, I’m still not sure. But he talked to me. He told me that he was lost in shadow.  He was trapped by Xehanort. I had to help him…”

“So… you forgave him, when you realized that he was a victim of Xehanort?”

“It’s not that simple,” Aqua brought her palm to her chest, warming as she spoke about her friend.  “Terra is very special to me. The closeness that we have will always influence me to see the light in him, no matter how deeply it’s buried away.”

Though her answer was uplifting, Isa dropped his head, staring into the cobblestones beneath his feet.  He and Xion had no closeness. There would be no bias. No advantage. He would have to earn her forgiveness totally from scratch, and he wasn’t sure if his light was bright enough for her to see.  He had her entire lifetime’s worth of abuse to atone for. A feeble apology suddenly seemed very inadequate.

“You seem troubled.”

Aqua interrupted the pessimistic voice in Isa’s head.  Troubled didn’t even begin to describe it. He supposed it was counterproductive to surrender to such defeatist tendencies before he’d even had the chance to try, but his anxiety was getting the better of him.  Aqua came here to compliment his bravery, yet Isa felt more cowardly than ever.

“I’m sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

Her hand rested on his shoulder.  It was vibrating. “Isa.”

He turned to see her face just in time for the shell to crack.  So, she had been wearing a mask, too. Now, Isa understood the real reason she’d come over here.   _ She _ needed to talk.   _ She _ needed to heal.   _ She _ needed someone to help her get her mask off.  He handed her the floor with a nod, offering her the listening ear she was too afraid to ask for.  It took her a few moments and a number of breaths before she was able to speak again.

“Everything I ever understood about light and darkness… it’s all been completely wrong… Master Eraqus always taught us to bury the darkness away.  Suppress it so that we wouldn’t be tempted by its advances. It was a simple philosophy. Light good, darkness bad. It made sense.”

What a way to live.  Except for a few exceptions, darkness resided in every heart.  It was necessary to maintain balance in all people. Isa couldn’t fathom growing up in such a rigid, black and white culture which inherently condemned every living person who failed to shun their own humanity.  Such extremist values were unrealistic and borderline religious in their unyielding nature. It was like a cult. Isa could barely contain his repugnance.

“I was a diligent student and a devout follower of his teachings.  I’m meant to take his place now that he’s gone. He trusted me with this role.  But, after all that… I let the darkness overtake me.” Her hands curled into fists.  Her words wavered. “I failed him. I failed Terra and Ven. I failed my own title as a Keyblade Master.”

“Aqua, there is something you should know,” Isa stepped in before she sank too deep.  “You are not weak.”

He knew very little about Aqua’s experiences — only that she had become trapped in the realm of darkness for twelve years.  Isa had been there plenty of times out of necessity and been surprised at how strong the pull of darkness truly was. It was his ability to withstand the damage that had caught Xehanort’s eye in the first place.  “The realm of darkness is a desolate wasteland of despair. I and all of my comrades traveled through it regularly, and we wore coats specifically designed to protect us from the darkness. We were Nobodies. We didn’t have hearts to lose.  Some of us were arguably  _ evil _ .  Still, we all wore that coat so that the darkness wouldn’t swallow us.  You survived for over ten years in there before you fell. And you’re just a human.  Most wouldn’t last an hour.”

She didn’t look up at him as he spoke.  His words made perfect sense, yet did not seem to reach her.  Isa brimmed with pity. “You feel lost. Your entire belief system was shattered to pieces.  You may be confused and frightened, but you are not weak.”

She forced a timid smile, polite, but guarded.  Isa could see the pressure rising in her — the heaviness of the memories weighing on her mind.  Her eyes cast off into the distance, as if she were speaking to the air itself. “Time really has no meaning in the realm of darkness.  I could have been stuck in there for ten years or a hundred years. It would have felt just as lonely either way…”

She leaned slightly, her posture not so much restful as it was weary.  She rambled aimlessly, caring not whether she would ever make a point. She just needed to talk.  Her words were stream of conscience, a journey with no real destination. “I kept looking up and hoping to see a sun or a moon.  Something to indicate the passage of time. I saw nothing. I looked at my reflection in the pools of darkness to see if I’d aged.  I hadn’t. I wondered when I’d get hungry or tired, but I never did. It was like time had completely frozen.”

She’d taken on a stoic demeanor as she recounted her experiences.  Her stability never faltered even as she recalled some of the deepest sadness she’d ever felt.  Her eyes never welled up, her jaw never clenched. It was as if she’d gone numb. “I walked through so many empty worlds.  I saw people’s homes… pictures on the mantle, beds unmade, a dinner table still set… the fall to darkness must have been so quick and unexpected.  Those poor people never saw it coming.

“In my loneliness, I prayed for company.  It felt so wrong to hope that I might find someone else trapped in there just so I wouldn’t have to be alone.  When I met Ansem the Wise, I couldn’t decide if I was happy to have a companion or sad that a man of such light had ended up in a dark place like that.

“Terra… He got to go on and live in the realm of light while I was stuck in hell for almost twelve years.  And all that time he spent reaping the benefits of my sacrifice, he was plotting the destruction of the known universe.

“And that damned Mickey… he knew I was trapped in there and he didn’t come for me…”

Her voice broke at last and she stopped, taking time to compose herself.  Isa filled the silence in her stead. “Those emotions are a heavy burden, Aqua.   _ Anyone  _ would have fallen to darkness in your situation.”

Her monologue resonated with him.  His movements were cautious and uncertain as he placed a hand on her wrist, compelled to connect with her over their shared sorrows.  “Aqua, I am all too familiar with the illusion of abandonment. I know what it’s like to feel that you’ve been rejected and forgotten, whether it’s true or not.  It hurts like hell, and I sank into darkness for that very reason,” he glanced across the courtyard in the direction of the crowd, looking fondly at his friends from a distance.  “But, I learned that I was wrong. I was rescued. I was pulled out of that darkness by the very people I thought had left me for dead.”

“If he didn’t forget me, then why didn’t he come for me?” she wondered aloud.  “And Terra… he knew I was the one who saved him… why didn’t they save me?”

“I can’t answer that.  I don’t know,” Isa sighed.  “The best advice I can offer is to ask them.”

A beat passed.  Then another and another.  Aqua laughed, fidgeting to conceal the embarrassed flush in her cheeks.  “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to just dump all my baggage on you. I guess I should have worn a mask after all…”

“I’m glad you didn’t.  You needed that. You’d been holding it in for far too long.”

She nodded slowly.  “When you spend all your time and energy caring for people you love, or people you’ve hurt in the past, or people who are just down on their luck and struggling a little harder than you might be, it’s easy to neglect yourself.”

“Yes,” Isa agreed, feeling the message in her words quite strongly.  “Sometimes focusing on helping others just ends up being a way to avoid helping yourself when you need it.”

“And so you put on a mask.”

“That’s right.”

Her face lifted slightly, looking hopeful.  “But, like you said, sometimes we have to fake it ‘til we make it.  Happiness after tragedy doesn’t have to be false. It can be the beginning of moving on.”

“Exactly.”

She gazed at Terra and Ventus.  “I keep waiting for things to go back to normal.  But… I’m not sure what ‘normal’ is anymore.”

Isa wondered in his mind what he considered normal about his life both before, during, and after the Organization.  The only constant through it all was Lea, but even that aspect had shifted through a number of different permutations.  Maybe there was no such thing as ‘normal’ after all. “Perhaps you have to create a new ‘normal.’”

She cocked her head, thinking.  “Maybe so. In that case, there is no going back.  Only forward.”

“Isn’t that what healing is all about?”

Aqua’s smile in response was sincere.  It was grateful. It was warm. Her voice was quiet and peaceful.  Her admiration of him gleamed in her eyes. “You’re very wise, Isa.  I’m glad to know you.”

Isa couldn’t have felt more honored to receive such a compliment from her.  To have earned Aqua’s genuine respect was an accomplishment he never thought he might achieve.  “Likewise. Terra and Ventus are lucky to have you. Together, you will find your new ‘normal.’”

They didn’t speak again for some time.  Aqua had returned to watching the crowd as it began to dwindle.  Isa was fixed on the sky, staring thoughtfully as the moon peeked from behind the clouds.  He’d all but forgotten the party, Xion, his anxiety, his guilt, his pain. The moon had a way of lifting those burdens off of his shoulders and carrying them in his stead for the night.  For the moment, he did not feel quite so heavy.

“I see we have a visitor.”

Aqua’s voice summoned him from his trance.  He followed her eyes. A glance at what they’d seen was enough to bring all the worries back.  Xion was standing a few feet away, staring at the ground, waiting. “Yes… I was expecting her. There is… a wound that I inflicted…”

He felt Aqua’s eyes on him, but he could not look away.  He was paralyzed. Her hand came to his sleeve. “I can see how this is affecting you.  Her, too. Whatever happened must have been very painful for the both of you.”

He shook his head.  “My feelings are irrelevant.  She was my victim. I must set things right with her.  I just don’t know how…”

“Your feelings are not irrelevant.  You are just as worthy of healing. Maybe the two of you can work together to find your peace again.  Your own new ‘normal.’”

He watched, his posture rigid as Xion wrung her hands.  She seemed to be talking herself into completing her trek toward him.  He considered closing the gap and approaching her, but his legs were locked in place.  He couldn’t move. Aqua’s soothing voice whispered from behind him again.

“I sense your despair.  You both are sinking into it.  Offer her your hand and pull her out.  In turn, she might pull you out as well.  It’s not too late. Neither one of you has to drown.”

He turned to his companion when he felt her rising to her feet.  “Thank you, Aqua.”

“Good luck, Isa,” she smiled.  “I wish you well.”

He had a choice.  Watch Aqua walk away or watch Xion come forth.   _ Don’t panic.  _  Time was running out.  He wondered if he should practice his lines once more, but his mind was completely blank except for raw anxiety.   _ Just be yourself.   _ She was getting closer.  He could hear the click of her shoes stepping on stone.   _ Breathe, Isa.   _ Before he could lose his nerve and run, she was there, directly in front of him.  This was it. No going back, only forward.

“Hello, Xion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter only exists because I was like "Hey, they both have blue hair! They should talk!" But I ended up really liking how they interacted and then had to split one chapter into two because of just how long it got.
> 
> Thank you as always for the comments and kudos. It means the world to me.


	16. A New Normal: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isa and Xion finally get to talk.

He was looking right at her.  He greeted her. He was waiting for her to respond but she couldn’t even look at him.  She tried, only to drop her head again. Wringing her hands and bouncing awkwardly on her heels, she stared intently into the ground beneath her, persuading herself not to turn and run.

“Would you like to sit down?”

_ He seems nervous.   _ It was almost comforting to see that this was just as daunting and stressful for him.  Hesitantly, she climbed over the ledge and sat with her back to him. She was just here to talk.  That was all. She didn’t have to look at him for that. They sat in silence, each wondering who might break the ice.  To her relief, it was Isa who spoke first.

“How are you?”

“I’m… I’m fine…”

“You, uh..” he stammered a bit.  “I understand if you are afraid—”

“I’m not afraid!” she snapped defensively, cutting him off.   _ Nice job, spazz.   _ Guilty and embarrassed over what a bad start this conversation had gotten off to, she took a few calming breaths and corrected herself in a quieter voice.  “Sorry… I’m not afraid. I just…”

Her mind was clouded by the mess of words she wanted to say.  She was losing her focus. Closing her eyes, she summoned the images of her friends.  Roxas, Olette, Axel. They were counting on her. They believed in her. She had to keep her word.  She promised to come here and listen to what he had to say. She promised she would be brave and ask her questions.  She accepted that it might not turn out well, but she still promised to be here and do this. She needed answers, and the only way to get them was to ask for them.  “I’m going to talk first.”

He didn’t respond right away.  Had she surprised him? Did she mess up his plan?  Was he angry? Was he going to—

“Alright.  Whenever you’re ready.”

This was it.  It was now or never.  “I came here to ask why.”

“‘Why?’”

“Yes.  I…” she took a breath.  “I was created as a tool.  I was activated and stuffed into that coat with nothing but a number and a name.  I was just a puppet, a blank slate, designed to copy somebody. That was my only true mission.  But I turned into my own person by accident. That, by definition, is a failure. I get that.”

“Xion—”

“Let me finish,” her body shook and she clenched her fists as she poured it all out for him.  “I failed the one thing that I was supposed to do. The one thing that I was made for. I made friends.  I had feelings. I learned joy and love and fear and pain. I could laugh and I could cry. I had hopes and dreams and desires just like any person.  I understand how that would all technically make me a failure. I  _ was _ defective.  And so in the end, I had to give it all up.  I had to be erased from existence and disappear even from people's memories.  Even so, I never truly ceased to be. I had to stand in the shadow of someone I’d never met and watch him live the life that was taken away from me, looking upon the faces of my old friends and knowing that they didn’t even remember me.”

Her voice broke and she paused, collecting herself.  Isa was mercifully silent, not interrupting her monologue until it was requested of him.  She was choking on the lump in her throat, but with a shuddering exhale, she picked up where she left off.  “I was effectively buried alive. You can never understand what that’s like.”

Recounting the sad tale of her demise was almost more than she could bear.  She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to dry up now before she completely lost control.  It was too early to break down. There was so much more to say. She needed to finish this.

“And yet… here I stand.  I have a heart. I have my own body.  I have my memories, my friends, my feelings… I have a home and a life.  Everything I could ever want. But something still hurts. Roxas came back happy.  Axel came back happy. I came back and I’m angry and I’m confused and I’m sad. I was granted humanity, only to waste it wallowing in misery.  I failed as a puppet, and now I feel like I’m failing as a person.”

Her hand was hurting from curling so tightly into a fist.  The bandages pulled at her skin. The twinge grounded her in a way, quieting the noise in her mind just enough to finish what she’d started.  With one more rattling breath, Xion made her plea. “I don’t care what you saw or didn’t see in me. But I refuse to believe that my entire existence has been meaningless.  I refuse to believe that I was just a mistake. And I refuse to believe that you only saw me as an ineffective prop who cut in on your friendship. That can’t be the only explanation for your disproportionate hatred of me.  Even you wouldn’t be so petty. Tell me the real reason. I deserve to know why.”

Isa winced as though he’d been bludgeoned.  Every word she said was another heavy blow, throttling him with the intensity of the pain they invoked.  His stomach began to twist in knots as he listened to this poor child lament the burden she carried with her every day of her life.  It was all so real, so potent, so familiar. What he wouldn’t give to take back every word he’d said to her back then.

The mic had been passed and Isa now had the floor.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.  The answer was agonizing. He hoped he’d never have to revisit these memories again, but they crawled through his mind like vermin, infesting his thoughts, demanding to be addressed.  Xion was right. She deserved to know. “Xion… I  _ was  _ petty.  I  _ was _ jealous.  But you’re right.  I was not entirely honest about why.”

He saw a sudden flash of that day in the Keyblade Graveyard.  He had been explaining his hostility, gritting his teeth and whispering through the torturous shifting of his broken bones.  Every syllable was horrendously painful. His breaths had reduced to shallow gasps, each one more debilitating than the last.  Kneeling in the sand, waiting to die, he looked up at the children he’d mistreated, wanting to see the faces of the people he was to trust Lea’s heart with in his absence.  He saw her. He saw Xion as she was meant to look. The shock nearly took his breath away. He could only mutter that he was jealous before his voice broke and the pain became to great to speak anymore.  Now was the time to finish that sentence.

“I was seventeen when Xehanort infiltrated me,” he began.  “When my heart was stolen, I rebelled. Xemnas punished me by cutting this sigil into my face, and in that moment, he inserted a fragment of Xehanort’s heart into my body.  I was to be the second attempt at creating an empty, programmable vessel that would effectively host his essence, and this wound was the conduit through which he entered me.  You could say the procedure was a success. Xemnas controlled me quite easily for years after that, but he still could not entirely stifle my true identity. Despite his efforts, not one of his potential vessels would renounce their true sense of self.  Isa began to break through after a long while, but the damage was done. It wasn’t the same Isa. It was a hopelessly mangled version of me, desperately fighting for the right to exist, suffocating under the weight of Xehanort’s influence. I, like you, was the result of a failed experiment.  I, like you, was a broken puppet. I, like you, was buried alive inside of the cold, lifeless sarcophagus that was Saïx.”

He couldn’t see her, but Isa could feel Xion stiffen behind him.  He sensed the tension rippling through her body as her frightened trembling came to a screeching halt.  He heard her breaths cease abruptly. He couldn’t stall any longer. He pressed on, focusing on his objective.

“Your failure meant you got to have feelings, friends, aspirations… if only for a little while.  Your failure brought you a  _ heart.   _ My failure only brought me pain and anguish that dragged on for ten years.”  Isa’s eyes welled up and his words began to waver with emotion. He recalled the nights he’d spent in his room, slumped over his desk and wondering what those brats had that he didn’t.  Even now he wondered if, were he able to grow a heart like Xion did, would Lea have left?

“You were never a blank slate to me, Xion.  When I looked at you… I saw what I had lost.  Your hood lowered, and your face was that of seventeen-year-old Isa.”

Xion’s jaw dropped with a gasp.  Of all the answers she had been preparing herself to hear, this one wasn’t on the list.  The heart-breaking confession was so tragic and so astonishing that she wasn’t certain how to process it.  Should she still feel hurt by his actions? Should she still be angry about the way he treated her? Did she have any right?  She no longer knew what sort of reaction would be appropriate for a revelation of such magnitude.

“I had no idea…”

“Xion, listen,” Isa was deliberate and clear with his words, being as firm as he could while retaining his gentle demeanor.  “Nothing that I saw in you could ever justify my actions. I abused you out of bitterness and spite. I was a cruel, despicable monster, and if you decided to walk away now and never forgive me, it would be far more lenient a punishment than I deserve.”

Tears spilled from Isa’s eyes, and he made no effort to stop them.  This was the moment he had been preparing for. He’d forgotten everything he thought he should say, but he took the first step right over the edge and bared his remorse to her at last.  “I’m sorry, Xion… I am sorry for everything I said, everything I did, all the pain I caused you… I am so sorry that I treated you that way.”

Moved by his heartfelt apology, Xion’s throat seemed to constrict.  She could hear him sniffling. She heard his voice shaking as he spoke.  She held her breath and listened to the first sounds of genuine human emotion emitting from him.  He really did have a heart. He really could feel now. Xion stared at the ground while she collected her thoughts, unable to piece together a response right away.  She dug into her heart and hoped she’d find peace and understanding, only to be met with more anger and grief. The resentment gripped her so tightly that she grew dizzy and nauseated.  She longed to let go of the hurt, but a powerful force held her back and refused to relent.

Time seemed to freeze entirely as the conversation reached a dead halt.  The silence was deafening. All the pressure fell to Xion, burying her in anxiety.  She desperately fought back the onslaught of emotion threatening to erupt from her, trying and failing to swallow down the lump in her throat.  She hung her head and watched as tears melted into the stone beneath her. She couldn’t speak. She would lose it if she tried. How she wished Roxas could be here.  He would have the perfect advice. He would have all the answers she needed. He would know exactly what to say and what to do in this moment.

_ It just feels  _ better  _ to let it go and move on with my life. _

At the end of the day, that was all Xion had ever wanted.  She wanted to feel better. She wanted a hand up out of the depression in which she’d been imprisoned for all these weeks.  She wanted to move on with her life. She let her face sink into her hands as her resolve collapsed and the emotions washed over her.  She ached on Isa’s behalf, stunned by the depths of her empathy for him. She drowned in her despair, grieving for her own sake, finally acknowledging how unfair her short life had been, and how intensely painful that really was for her.  Anger overflowed from her chest and spread through her veins, eating away at her like acid. She was angry at Saïx for projecting his own self-loathing onto her. She was angry at Xemnas for turning what seemed like such a gentle man into the monster he was.  She was angry at the Organization for creating her, angry at Sora and Naminé for trapping her, angry at her friends for forgetting her, and angry at herself for being angry. She was completely overwhelmed.

How much time had passed since a word was spoken?  Isa could barely breathe, listening to the contagious sound of Xion’s soft weeping and wondering if he’d screwed this up.  Said the wrong thing. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to forgive him. He wouldn’t have blamed her. Given his transgressions, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she never did.  Maybe now he had just made her feel worse.

To his shock and disbelief, she touched him.  He felt a timid brush of trembling fingers on his arm, at first just barely grazing his jacket.  Then it was the warmth of her palm laid gently over his shoulder. She was so cautious; so afraid.  He could sense it. He froze, uncertain how he should respond. Should he turn around? Was she looking at him now?  The suspense was unbearable. His body began to shiver, threatening to collapse. He could only gasp as that same hand fell from his shoulder and those shaking fingers wrapped around his.  That was it for him. The words weren’t necessary. He had his answer.

Broken puppets.  Broken people. Both still holding onto the pain from their pasts.  Both on a journey to heal from those wounds. It made perfect sense.  She hadn’t forgiven him. She  _ couldn’t  _ forgive him.  Not while it still hurt this much.  She was asking him for help. She was inviting him to join her.  She wanted them to work as a team and climb out of their shared misery together.  She wanted  _ both  _ of them to heal.  She just didn’t know where to start.

Isa was so touched by the gesture, simple as it was, that he couldn’t restrain himself any longer, and he finally broke down alongside her.  This child who he’d mistreated out of pure, unbridled malice for so long, who was now openly crying beside him as she finally accepted the trauma he’d inflicted, was so compelled by her compassion that she set aside her grief to comfort her former abuser, clinging to the hand of her only antagonist just so neither of them would have to be alone.  It was one of the most moving acts of kindness Isa had ever had the privilege to witness.

There was no drama.  No theatrics. They sat quietly on the stone wall, back to back, letting their tears flow freely with their hands clasped together in solidarity.  They didn’t wail, they didn’t embrace, and they didn’t speak a word for a long while. They didn’t need any of that. Their company was enough. They had reached an understanding, and that was all that mattered.

Time passed and their tears slowly dried up.  Xion heaved a shuddering sigh, temporarily releasing herself from the bonds of her emotional torment.  She was still hurting; that would not change so easily. She was still sad and she was still lost. It would take time to be freed from those chains.  And, at the end of the day, she was still angry at Saïx, and she would have to work through that resentment a little at a time. But tonight, she realized that that anger was reserved for Saïx and Saïx alone, and that this man who sat beside her, for once her equal, begging for her forgiveness, was not Saïx.  This man —  _ Isa  _ — was an entirely different person.  In her heart, she needed to accept that new reality if she ever wanted to achieve a state of peace between them.  She could hold onto her anger for as long as she needed, but that anger wasn’t for Isa.

“Isa… thank you.  I know what it took to come here today and say all that… and I really appreciate it.”

This was the first time Xion had said his name.  He nearly lost it all over again at the sound of it.  He pursed his lips and lightly squeezed her fingers, afraid to open his mouth lest he cry again.

“It took some time, but you eventually came to see me as the person I am.  The person everybody else sees when they look at my face,” she peeked into the fountain, catching a glimpse of her face reflected in the water’s surface.  She sighed, glad to see herself staring back at her, exactly as she was meant to look. “I’d like to do the same for you. I want to see you as Roxas and Axel see you.  I want to see who you really are.”

He felt a shifting behind him, heard a shuffling of fabrics.  His heart stopped with a deafening thud when he realized that she had turned around.  She must have been looking right at him now and was waiting for him to follow suit. She indulged in one more request, asked in a voice so soft and meek that it was nearly inaudible amidst the sound of the rushing water in the fountain behind them.

“Isa… may I see your face?”

He supposed now was as good a time as ever for them to finally break down the wall.  It was time for Xion to meet Isa. With a deep, raspy breath, he turned around to face her.  Her ocean blue eyes widened in surprise, but quickly softened, emitting a warmth that settled Isa’s fears considerably.  He began to feel quite exposed as she examined his appearance in depth, squinting at every feature in silence. She reached for him, but lost her nerve and pulled her hand back.  It took a moment, but he understood, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he tucked his hair behind his ears. She smiled a peculiar smile as she took in the entirety of Isa’s face, grateful for his show of trust.

“What do you see, Xion?”

The pause was brief, but long enough to set Isa’s anxieties back in motion.  She answered with a curious, questioning tone. “Your eyes are teal.”

Isa smiled shyly.  “Most of the time. I find they change in different light.”

She giggled, drawing her focus from his eyes to his brow.  “You still have the…”

Isa dropped his head, letting his hair fall to hide his disfigured visage once more.  “I know. I’m sorry. Does it disturb you?”

“No.  Does it disturb you?”

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged.  “Sometimes, yes. Other times, not so much.  It’s complicated.”

She questioned in her mind whether or not it was right to pity him for being left with it, unsure if he desired anyone’s sympathy.  Deciding not to fixate on the scar, she instead studied his face as a whole, searching for the man Axel had grown up with. The man Roxas learned to forgive.  In almost every way, she was looking at Saïx, but at the same time, she wasn’t. The man’s appearance was both familiar and foreign to her. That face had once been so ominous that it haunted her in her dreams night after night.  Now, every feature had softened, as if someone had breathed life and warmth into it at last. His eyes no longer carried the piercing glare they once had. Where they were once cold and menacing, they now glistened with all the pain and heartache of a man who had known only sorrow and loneliness for a decade.  There was feeling. There was humanity.

“You look like him,” she whispered.  “But Roxas was right. It’s different.  I see… a heart.”

She lifted her hand again, trembling with nerves as she extended it to him.  He didn’t flinch or protest as she flattened it on his chest. Her body visibly relaxed as she felt the quiet drumming beneath his skin _. _   She closed her eyes for a moment, just counting the beats.  The rhythm was perfectly steady. Mesmerizing. She could feel her own erratic pulse thumping inside her, gradually slowing as she listened to his.  There was something oddly peaceful in hearing them fall into sync. For the first time all evening, she was calm.

Satisfied, she let her hand drop and turned to scan the courtyard.  It was deserted, and they both wondered where their companions had gone.  The sun had long disappeared and the sky was dark. Stars dotted the blackness overhead and the moon shone brightly among them.  It’s appearance was captivating — perfectly round and clear, standing center stage among a chorus of stars. Xion was again drawn to it, entranced by its subtle elegance.

“The moon is very pretty tonight.”

“I agree,” he concurred.  “Of all her phases, the full moon is the most beautiful.”

She tilted her head.  “I got so used to watching sunsets, I guess I never thought much about the moon before.”

Isa nodded in understanding.  Surely Lea had some influence on her in that regard.  If only to contrast his old friend’s teachings, Isa decided to pepper in some influence of his own.  “During the day,” he mused. “The sunlight floods the world, leaving not a wink of darkness in sight.  It’s so bright you can’t even look at it without going blind.”

She listened politely, intrigued by his observation.  He couldn’t help but smile as he waxed lyrical about his favorite topic.

“But at night,” he continued with growing animation in his voice, as if he were telling a riveting story.  “There is darkness everywhere. Were it not for the moon, all you would see is darkness.”

He could barely contain his enthusiasm for the subject, delighted to see her taking an interest.  “There is a humbleness to it. The moon is not so conceited as to saturate the world with her light.  She  _ shares _ the sky with darkness, blotting out just enough of it to maintain the balance.”

“You mean,” she clarified, catching on to his explanation.  “It helps us appreciate the light more, because it shows us the darkness that it cuts through.  It reminds us what the world would look like without it.”

“That’s exactly right.”

She grinned, her eyes wide with wonder as they admired the artistry of the heavens above them.  “Let’s watch together now. For a little while longer.”

Isa responded with only a smile and a nod, and they sat back, quietly observing the sky together.  Grey clouds passed by in light wisps. Stars flickered in and out. The only constant was the moon.  It hung in its place, never changing as it slowly crawled across the pool of darkness above the world.  For Isa, the moon was like an old friend that could never fail him. Even when he had nothing, he still had the moon.  The Organization had been a lonely place, but the moon was always there to bring him comfort. He was elated to finally share that comfort with someone who truly needed it.

Isa was so engrossed in the view, so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Xion’s head leaning on his shoulder.  He turned to find that her eyes were closed and her face looked more peaceful than he had ever seen.

“Xion?”

Sound asleep, Xion did not stir when he spoke to her.  He froze, worried that even the slightest movement would rouse her.  He supposed that this was the first restful sleep she’d had in weeks, and was unwilling to disturb her.  Taking great care not to jostle her too much or make any sounds, he gingerly maneuvered her body into his arms, lifting her off the fountain ledge and carrying her inside.  She never moved a muscle as he brought her upstairs — not even a flutter of the eyelids.

Along the way, he ran into Lea, who had come looking for him.  His eyes widened with alarm when he saw Xion’s limp form in his arms.  “Isa…?”

“Shh,” Isa whispered.  “Don’t wake her.”

Looking much more at ease, Lea nodded, hurriedly leading Isa to a guest room where Xion was to sleep.  She remained perfectly still and silent the whole way, so deep in her slumber that an earthquake wouldn’t wake her.  Isa gently laid her on the bed and threw a blanket over her while Lea watched from the doorway with a smirk on his face.  Satisfied that she would be comfortable, Isa quietly exited the room, turning out the light and tugging the door closed behind him.

When he turned to face his friend, he narrowed his eyes at the sight of Lea’s comical grin.  “What?”

Lea’s smile didn’t falter in the slightest.  “How did it go?”

Unsure how quite to summarize the evening, Isa shrugged before beginning the trek toward his bedroom.  “It was a good talk.”

Lea shook his head with a soft chuckle, barely concealing his overwhelming joy at what he’d witnessed.  Isa may or may not have been aware, but there was a sudden peacefulness to his demeanor that wasn’t there before this moment.  Where there used to be visible tension spread over the man’s entire musculature, now Lea observed that his friend appeared completely relaxed.  Xion’s face — even in sleep — also appeared to carry a brighter lift than before. Both she and Isa looked  _ relieved _ .  Lea was positively giddy over it all.

When they reached the bedroom door, Isa paused, seeming apprehensive and distracted.  Lea cocked his head with a questioning look. “You coming to bed?”

“I’ve got to sit with Demyx,” Isa had fixed intently on a spot in the carpet, puzzled as to why he felt compelled to avert his gaze.  “Don’t wait up for me.”

Demyx likely didn’t need him and was probably fast asleep, but Isa needed the space to process the evening’s events.  Lea probably knew that, and Isa chided himself for making excuses when he didn’t need to. He finally lifted his eyes, gasping when he saw the look on his old friend’s face.  He knew that look. He’d seen it countless times before. How long had it been since Lea had last looked at him like that? Isa was drawn in until there were only inches between them.  He raised his fingers to Lea’s cheek, lightly brushing his thumb down his jaw, cupping his chin and pulling him close. Their eyes were closed. Their noses were touching. Isa could feel Lea’s breath, could hear his pulse.  Their lips hovered a centimeter apart, each waiting for the other to close the gap.

He couldn’t do it.  He laid his palms on Lea’s chest and backed away, avoiding his friend’s eyes.  Lea’s face fell slightly. “Why’d you stop?”

Isa hung his head, wishing he had an answer.  “Sorry…”

Lea tenderly stroked his shoulder with a patient and understanding smile.  “Don’t be. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Isa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent weeks on this chapter. It had to be perfect. This moment meant so much to me. I finally can acknowledge that I am happy with it and am thrilled to finally post it today. Please, feel free to leave a comment and let me know if it hit all the right notes for you.
> 
> This is a climax of sorts, but it's definitely not the end! There is still so much more story to tell, so stay tuned!


	17. Ace in the Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx gets an unexpected visitor.

_ Grass.  That’s what it is.  I’m laying on grass. _

Demyx’s eyelids may as well have been weighed down with cinder blocks.  He tried to lift them, but they would not obey. He was thoroughly exhausted, as if all his energy was drained out of him.  It was well over a minute before he could summon the strength to open his eyes. Everything was green. He really was laying on grass.  Face down.

_ Well, at least it’s soft. _

He gasped, his first inhale since he awoke.  It took a bit to remember how to breathe. The disorientation gradually began to fade.  The air was clean. It smelled of nature. Vaguely familiar. All of this was familiar.

_ What happened to me? _

He lifted his head to look around, blinking the haze from his vision.  The daylight was a little on the pink side. It was either dawn or dusk.  He rolled over onto his back. A few feet away lay his sitar. Why was it just lying on the ground like that?  There was a gate beside him. Behind it, a mansion of red bricks. He knew that mansion. Where had he seen that mansion before?

_ Twilight Town… _

Of course.  This was Twilight Town.  It didn’t make any sense.  Why was he in Twilight Town?  How did he get there? He thought back, only able to recall disconnected chunks of those few days he’d spent in Ansem’s research lab, watching his old comrades rebuild Roxas.  The last thing he remembered was pain in his chest. He fell to the floor in a heap. Zexion and Vexen were standing over him. Then nothing.

He tried to sit up.  He made it to his elbows before collapsing back onto the grass with a wince.  His head was pounding and spun violently whenever he picked it up. All of his muscles and joints were sore, as if he’d just come from a grueling battle.  He tore off his gloves. His hands were trembling. Resigning himself to the aches for now, he forced himself to sit upright. He soon regretted it when he started to feel dizzy.  Very dizzy. He turned over and vomited onto the grass.

_ Ugh… Is this a hangover? _

After a moment’s struggle, he made it to his feet.  He leaned heavily on the brick wall beside him, hunched over and clutching his stomach.  The nausea barreled through him in waves. His limbs all carried the sensation of pins and needles.  His head ached so badly that he could barely keep his eyes open. He brushed the sweat from his face, grimacing as a flood of memories rushed into his mind.  The Organization. His friends. His enemies. His number. His name.

_ Sora…  _

The memory of his defeat at Sora’s hands seemed to puncture through his forehead and drill into his skull.  He could see the kid’s smug face as he delivered the final blow. He felt his knees slam onto the ground, saw his blood pooling on the stone beneath him.  The pain. The fear. The betrayal. “How could he do this?” he remembered thinking as he slowly disintegrated into nothing.

_ Luxord… Larxene… _

He recalled the very moment that he realized he wouldn’t be seeing them again.  Some time after they’d all been recompleted, they were all informed that there was to be a new Organization, of which they had been chosen to be members.  Without even being given time to process the fact that they’d all risen from the dead, they were sent off to other worlds to do Xehanort’s bidding. Demyx was left behind as a reserve member and ordered to keep out of trouble.  He remembered telling his friends he’d see them later when they left for their missions, having no reason to assume otherwise.

Then, he was ordered to meet Vexen at Radiant Garden, where he was presented with an opportunity to betray the Organization and prevent the total annihilation of the realm of light.  When he agreed to Vexen’s proposition, he had to keep his distance in order to maintain the deception, and it was then that he was certain he had seen the last of Luxord and Larxene. Demyx wondered what might have been done had he declined the scientist’s offer.  If he’d told Vexen to get lost, where would he be now? Where would anyone be now? Who would have won the second Keyblade War?

The memories swirled at a nauseating pace.  It was senseless noise. It was chaos. He jammed his palms to his temples, fearing his head might explode if he didn’t hold it together.  He vomited again and again, his knees weakening with the vertigo.

_ I’ve gotta get out of here. _

All Demyx wanted now was to go home.  He raised a hand to summon a portal into the realm of darkness.  Nothing happened. He took a breath and tried again. Still nothing.  He made several more attempts before giving up. He could no longer open dark corridors.  He was stuck here. He had no way to leave.

He ran.  There was nowhere to go but into town.  The woods along the way were thick and filled with Heartless.  He pulled out his sitar and tried to command water as usual, but nothing happened.  It was just an instrument now. He had no weapon. He couldn’t fight. He was totally defenseless.

He had almost made it to the town’s outer wall when a shadow Heartless surprised him with a menacing scratch.  Demyx kicked it away, clutching his wounded arm and trying to remember how to perform any of his spells. Nothing was working, and the creatures were swarming him with teeth and claws bared.  He took off when he saw an opportunity to escape and soon burst into the Tram Common, bleeding, but alive.

He raced up and down the streets, searching for a familiar face and finding none.  He read sign after sign — all advertisements and job postings. None of the information was useful to him.  He closed his eyes, desperately racking his brain for a plan. The clock tower. Axel and Roxas always went to the clock tower.  Maybe they’d be up there. He bolted toward Station Plaza without a second thought.

There was no one at the clock tower.  Demyx watched the spot for several minutes, praying he’d see a figure in a black coat take a seat on the ledge.  No one came. Demyx stood frozen, staring into space in the center of the plaza. Every face he saw belonged to a stranger.  The citizens meandered aimlessly, going on about their business and paying Demyx no mind. He figured he should ask for help, but realized that he didn’t know what to ask for.  They’d want to know what happened to him and what would he say? That was the moment when it hit him. He had nothing but his coat and his sitar. His pockets were empty. His mind was blank.  His friends were gone. He was alone.

“Hey, buddy, you got any change?  I’m tryin’ to get a train ticket home…”

He jumped, startled by the sound of a gruff voice speaking to him.  Standing in front of him was a tall, older, portly man wearing tattered clothes and smelling of smoke.  He was dirty, and he had no shoes on his feet. On his shoulder was a duffel bag that had been torn in several places.  He backed away with his hands up, taken aback by Demyx’s reaction.

“Whoa, kid.  Didn’t mean to scare ya.  Just lookin’ for some change for a train ticket…”

Demyx opened his mouth, but no sound came out.  He was certain he could remember how to speak. The words were there, ready to be delivered.  All he had to do was say them. It took a few seconds for him to find his voice, and when he finally did, he didn’t recognize it.  “Sorry, dude. I’m as broke as you are.”

The man’s face fell with a mix of disappointment and sympathy.  “Aw, that’s too bad. Hope your luck turns around…”

“Yeah, thanks.  You too.”

The man didn’t leave.  Demyx had turned away, pressing his fingers to his forehead to relieve the pressure.  He didn’t notice the man was still staring at him. “You okay, kid? Looks like you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.  I, uh… fell.”

“You don’t look so good.  You’re shakin’ like a leaf.  You sick? You comin’ offa somethin’?”

“No and no,” Demyx sighed.  “Look, man, I’m sorry. I don’t have any munny.  I can’t help you.”

“Maybe I can help you.”

There was a pause and Demyx cocked his head.  “Huh?”

The man smiled, opening the zipper of his bag.  “If you’re lookin’ for a good time, I’ve got stuff for that.  If you’re hurtin’ bad and need a fix, I’ve got stuff for that.  You wanna sleep? Wanna expand your horizons and go for a ride? You name it, I got it.”

Demyx stopped listening after he heard what he needed.  “Wait. Back up. You have something for pain?”

“I got somethin’ that’ll make it go away.  And you’ll be able to relax real nice. My prices are reasonable, too…”

Demyx shook his head with another sigh.  “Sorry, dude, I still don’t have any munny.”

The man clicked his tongue before looking the musician up and down, scanning him for a solution.  His eyes landed on his sitar, lighting up at the sight of it. “What about that, uh… that instrument on your back?”

“My sitar?” Demyx stepped back, fiercely protective of it.  “I wouldn’t sell it for anything.”

The man stroked his chin, giving Demyx another once-over.  “Hmm… that coat looks like it keeps out the rain. Probably nice and warm, too.”

Demyx raised an eyebrow, plucking at the leather that hugged his body, sticking uncomfortably to his sweaty skin.  “My coat? Yeah, it’s hot and stuffy and nasty, dude…”

“The nights can get pretty cold here on the streets… I sure could use somethin’ to keep me warm when I go to sleep…”

He thought for a moment.  All he had was his coat and his sitar.  He’d never part with his instrument, but he hated that damned coat.  “Take it.”

The man let out a huge belly laugh, clapping him on the back in a friendly manner.  “Now that’s a done deal, son! I’m much obliged for your patronage.”

Demyx could already feel the tingle of relief.  He might be cold, but at least he wouldn’t be in pain.  He was just about to draw down the zipper when he realized what he’d done.  He didn’t wear anything under the coat. Nobody ever did. They were hot enough as it is, and the men in the Organization knew better than to add layers to their already muggy uniforms.  Now, he began to wonder if he’d regret letting the coat go, knowing he had nothing to wear in its place except his boots and pants. “Do you know where I can find clothes?”

The man recoiled, cringing.  “You mean you’re not wearin’ anything under it?” He narrowed his eyes, looking repulsed.  “Say, you ain’t one of them flashers are ya?”

“No!  No… It’s a long story.  Please, tell me where I can find other clothes.”

The man didn’t answer right away.  Demyx held his breath, waiting with a pleading look.  After a torturous moment of silence, he beamed at him.  “I like you, kid. Follow me. The donation bins should have plenty…”

He guided Demyx toward an alley where several large dumpsters full of clothing stood overflowing onto the pavement.  Demyx dug through each one, looking for something that would fit comfortably and protect him from the elements. After awhile, he was able to find a ripped pair of jeans, a plain short-sleeved shirt with several stains on it, and a gray sweatshirt with a hood and zipper, moth-eaten and full of holes, but with enough coverage to keep him warm at night.

“This’ll do.  I guess I’ll look again tomorrow…” He peeled off his coat and handed it to the man, eagerly awaiting the medicine that would end the barrage of pain he’d endured since his sudden awakening in Twilight Town.  “Here. It’s yours.”

The man pulled a small bottle out of the bag and discreetly passed it to him, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper.  “Here you go, buddy. This’ll make it all stop.”

As soon as he had the bottle in his hand, Demyx hurriedly swallowed a sizeable dose.  He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering exhale. Relief would come to him soon. “Thanks.”

The friendly man gripped his shoulder, smiling as usual.  “You ever need any more, you just come find old Arlo and I’ll set you up real nice.”

For the first time all day, Demyx smiled back.  “Arlo… okay, man. Thanks again.”

He was slipping on his foraged clothes when the first brushes of relief swept over him.  Little by little, the pain was dissipating, and the soft, cottony fabric of the new apparel was nothing short of heavenly compared to the Organization’s thick, leather coats.

“Say, what’s your name, kid?”

“Demyx.”

“Demyx, eh?” The man squinted, seemingly puzzled by the name.  He quickly recovered with a shrug. “Well, Demyx, the last train outta town’s already left so it looks like I’m stayin’ in another night.  Why don’t you play me a little bit of that there, uh… sitar?”

Demyx was in the process of dressing some of his deeper wounds with a few tattered clothing fragments when he paused at Arlo’s question.  He couldn’t help but feel touched by the request. In all his years, no one had ever  _ asked  _ him to play his sitar for them.  Not even Luxord. He was so flattered to learn that a perfect stranger wanted to hear him perform that he could only answer with a wide smile and an enthusiastic nod.

The two of them ducked into a nearby alley and settled onto a large, stained area rug that was fraying at the edges.  Arlo leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes while Demyx readied his instrument.

_ I hope I remember how to play…  _

His fingers traversed the neck of the sitar with ease, just as they always had.  As he composed a short piece for his new friend, his mind dwelled on his old ones.  He hadn’t the slightest clue where Luxord and Larxene were. He wasn’t certain he’d ever see them again.  There were a number of things he wished he’d said to them — tender sentiments, goofy jokes, stories from his dreams — had he only known it would be his last chance.  His cheerful playing slowly turned melancholic as he brimmed with regret.

He looked up and gazed at the night sky, his eyes taking a moment to focus on every star.  Perhaps they were out there on one of those worlds. Maybe they were looking for him. Inspiration struck, and all of the unsaid words Demyx had reserved for his friends were transformed into lyrics.  The last thing he could remember was Arlo’s smiling face as he sang into the open air, hoping and praying that, wherever they were, Luxord and Larxene could hear the song he’d written just for them.

* * *

There were hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him awake.  Demyx fluttered his eyelids open, rubbing the sleep away and adjusting to the dark.  The moment he recognized who had come to rouse him, his eyes widened and he gasped with utter shock.

“Luxord!”

A finger encased in a leather glove was pressed to his lips.  “Shhh…!”

Demyx froze, blinking again and again to ensure the man was truly there.  Convinced that he must be dreaming, he reached up to grasp Luxord’s sleeve.  He’d half expected his fingers to pass right through him and was surprised when he came in contact with the thick leather of his black coat.  His form was solid and opaque. He was no ghost. Demyx’s hands fumbled around in the dark until they found the man’s face. The skin was warm.  The stubble was prickly. His hair was just as curly as he remembered. He wasn’t dreaming. Luxord was real and alive and  _ here _ .  “What are you doing here?  I was worried sick about you!”

Luxord spoke in a deep, urgent whisper.  “I’m on the run, now hush.”

Demyx sat up in bed, his eyes now accustomed to the darkness.  Finally getting his first real look at his old friend nearly did him in.  Luxord was smiling at his young friend with that familiar cheeky grin he always wore, as if he were amused by Demyx’s bewilderment, but no less happy to see him again.

Several seconds of silence passed wherein Demyx remained totally speechless.  The shock hadn’t worn off even a little. He could barely process the idea of Luxord’s presence, let alone his words.

“On the run?” he gulped, having barely regained his voice.  “From who?”

“There isn’t time.  We must rouse Master Ansem at once.”

Demyx glanced over at the clock.  It was late, but not so late that the castle’s night owls would be asleep.  Isa would likely be wandering about somewhere. He might even be outside the castle.  Hard to track down.  _ No time.   _ He thought for a few moments.   _ Zexion.   _ Zexion would surely be willing and able to drag Master Ansem out of bed at this hour.  Demyx hopped out of bed, throwing on the first articles of clothing he could find in the growing pile on the floor.  “Okay. Follow me.”

He led Luxord out the door and down the hall to the staircase, stepping lightly to keep from waking anyone else.  He resisted the urge to look behind him, worried he might turn around and find that the man wasn’t there and that he’d imagined the whole exchange.  They hurried down a few flights of stairs until they’d finally reached Master Ansem’s research lab. Ienzo had his back turned and was deeply focused on the console in front of him, working on some document filled with numbers and technical jargon.  Demyx tiptoed up behind the young apprentice and announced their presence with a hushed whisper.

“Zexion.”

Startled by the sound of his former name, he whipped around and his jaw dropped when he saw who had come to visit.  Before he could say a word, Demyx darted over to him and clasped a hand over his mouth, muffling whatever exclamations he might have made. “Keep quiet.  We need you to wake up Master Ansem.”

Without any struggle, Ienzo nodded and Demyx cautiously released his hold on him.  With trembling hands, he straightened out his coat, glaring at the musician for the sudden fright.  He clutched his chest while he caught his breath before daring to question what he was seeing.

“What in the world is going on?” he nodded at Luxord with widened eyes.  “Where did you come from?”

Luxord kept his voice down.  “I’ll explain when Ansem the Wise gets here.  Please, you must summon him immediately.”

With an audible swallow, the apprentice stuttered out his agreement.  “A-All right… I’ll get him.”

With only a slight hesitation, Ienzo gathered his bearings and hurried out the door.  Left alone, Demyx and Luxord stood motionless and silent as they watched him go. He had no sooner crossed the threshold than Demyx dashed over to Luxord and threw his arms around him, openly weeping into his shoulder.  The shock of their unexpected reunion had finally dissipated, and a sudden influx of powerful emotions bombarded him until he was completely overwhelmed. He’d been holding it in for far too long. Demyx was so certain that he’d seen the last of Luxord that he had lost hope weeks ago and quietly mourned the loss of his fallen comrade alone, unbeknownst to his new companions in Ansem the Wise’s castle.  Now, he clung to his old friend like a lifeline, squeezing the breath out of him and vowing to himself that this time, he wouldn’t let go.

Taken aback, Luxord staggered slightly, but did not protest.  With a warm smile, he quickly and attentively returned the embrace, welcoming his young friend into his arms and holding him tightly.  The last time they’d hugged each other was just before Demyx was sent off to the battle with Sora that resulted in his death, and Luxord had been certain that solemn farewell would be their last.  On that day, he kept up his chin as he watched Demyx walk away, knowing he wouldn’t be coming back. He didn’t slump his shoulders, he didn’t frown, and he didn’t shed a single tear. Not until after Demyx was gone.  Luxord blinked away the sting in his eyes as he remembered their final poignant moment together. His composure began to waver, but he whisked those unpleasant thoughts away and restrained himself for his friend’s sake.  He had never cried in front of Demyx, even on that day, and he wasn’t about to start now.

When minutes had passed and Demyx’s crying hadn’t slowed even a little, Luxord became concerned for him.  He patted him gently on the head, coaxing him out of his bout little by little. “Demyx, my friend, it’s been a long time.”

Demyx refused to budge, blubbering almost incoherently into the collar of Luxord’s coat.  “They said they hadn’t heard from you… they couldn’t find any of you… I thought you were dead…”

Luxord bent slightly to look Demyx in the eyes, gripping him securely by the shoulders.  “Come now, I should think you’d give me a little more credit than that, eh?”

Demyx’s voice shook and he barely managed to spit his words out between his gasps and sniffles.  “I was so worried about you… I thought I’d never see you again…”

Luxord barely stifled a wince as he was struck with a peculiar twinge in his chest.  His face softened and he smiled through his guilt, hanging on by a thread. “There there, mate.  I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Demyx was quiet, averting his eyes while he worked up the nerve to speak again.  “I missed you…”

Luxord was so moved by Demyx’s declaration that he could no longer contain himself.  There would be a time for maintaining his poker face, but now was not that time. “Oh alright, come here, you fool…”

He hastily pulled his friend in for another embrace, no longer concerned with keeping up appearances.  There was so much he wanted to say. So much that Demyx deserved to hear. About how hard it was to watch him walk into that corridor like a prisoner headed for the gallows.  About how excruciating it was to look across the room at his empty chair after his demise. About how lonely the silence could be without the sound of his sitar to fill it. About how Luxord had missed him, too.  Missed him more than anyone and anything.

He surrendered to the tears just this once.  If he was to save them for anyone, Demyx would be that person.  The two only parted reluctantly after they were too sore to weep any longer.  He stepped back to finally get a good look at the musician, inspecting him from top to bottom to see if he’d changed at all.  He eyed the man’s bony frame curiously. “You look thin, Demyx. Have you been well?”

Demyx became visibly uncomfortable and began to fidget.  “Uh… well… I am now.”

“What happened?”

There was a pause while Demyx tried to piece together an explanation.  “Well, uh… I woke up in Twilight Town, of all places and I was all by myself.  I got mixed up with some drugs and I was homeless for awhile…”

“My word… are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Demyx nodded, spiritedly.  “These people found me and took me in. It’s kind of a miracle they ran into me there.”

Luxord’s face had shifted to a grimace and he found he could not look at Demyx for the moment.  He turned away, covering his eyes with his fingers pressed to his brow. “Damn it… Demyx, I’m sorry… You woke up in Twilight Town because I put you there.”  He shook his head with visible remorse. “What have I done…?”

Demyx blinked.  “Wait, what?”

“It was a terrible mistake.  I promise to explain,” Luxord turned back to his friend with a meek smile.  “But I’m glad to see that you’re safe here. I would have brought you here myself but I just couldn’t risk it.  I’m so sorry that you were left alone. It’s entirely my fault…”

He dropped his head in shame, but was intercepted by Demyx laying a hand on his shoulder and persuading him to lock eyes again.  “No. Don’t blame yourself, Luxord. I made some bad decisions but I’m okay now. All of Ansem’s apprentices are here and they’ve taken good care of me while I get better.  I’ve had a ton of help… from Saïx, actually.” Demyx quickly corrected himself. “Well, no… he’s Isa now. He’s nothing like Saïx at all.”

“Hmm,” Luxord stroked his chin.  “I don’t think I ever met Saïx’s somebody…”

“Then allow me to initiate a formal introduction.”

The two were startled by the unexpected arrival of Isa, who casually leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“Coach!”

“Doth mine eyes deceive me?  Am I dreaming?”

Luxord grinned mischievously.  “I’m afraid this is no dream, mate.  But I’ll be happy to pinch you if you’d like to confirm.”

Isa smirked, finally coming forward out of the shadows and extending a hand for his former comrade.  “It’s good to see you, Luxord.”

Luxord accepted the handshake with mild suspicion, surprised by the warmth of Isa’s skin.  He had never particularly cared for Saïx, always resenting the man for being so secretive and cold, but he was stunned to see how animated and  _ human  _ his Somebody appeared to be.  He had some choice words for the man, but that could wait until later.  For now, he was simply intrigued. “It’s nice to meet you,  _ Isa _ .”

Luxord scanned him briefly, his eyes settling on his face.  He was confused by the appearance of the scar between Isa’s eyes, having assumed it would disappear upon his recompletion.  He quickly let his eyes drift elsewhere, hoping Isa hadn’t noticed him staring. “You’re up late. Still don’t sleep, eh?”

Isa chuckled.  “I sleep quite well these days,” he gestured in Demyx’s direction.  “No thanks to this one here.”

They shared a laugh, further perplexing Luxord.  He’d never seen Saïx laugh before. “He’s always been a handful.”

“I’m literally standing right here.”  Demyx glared at them, crossing his arms defiantly.  There was more laughter at his expense. Luxord gently gripped the musician’s shoulder, smiling widely at him.  Demyx softened, letting his arms fall with a visible release of tension. It was hard to stay mad at Luxord when he looked at him like that.

When they had finally quieted down, Isa turned to Luxord expectantly.  “So, care to explain why the hell you finally decided to show up here?”

“I might like to know that myself.”

Ansem the Wise had entered the room, closely followed by Ienzo.  Luxord straightened up, approaching the old man and bowing his head respectfully.  “Master Ansem, I am honored that you are willing to meet with me at such a late hour.”

“The pleasure is mine.  It just so happened that I was up late reading.  But I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage here.”

Luxord extended his hand and introduced himself to the castle’s Master.  “My apologies, sir. My name is Luxord. I joined the Organization around the same time as Demyx here.”

Master Ansem shook his hand with a polite smile.  “Well met, Luxord.”

Demyx could no longer stand the wait, cutting off the introduction abruptly.  “Okay, spill. Where have you been?”

Luxord was keenly aware that every eye in the room was on him.  He quickly realized that he hadn’t rehearsed this explanation and was unsure where to begin.  After a moment’s pause, he started with the first thing he could remember. “Demyx, myself, Marluxia, and Larxene all wound up in the Keyblade Graveyard after Xehanort’s defeat.  It seemed I was the first to awaken, sans a good chunk of my memories. When I finally opened my eyes, standing over me was Xigbar.”

Ienzo cocked his head.  “Xigbar? Not Braig?”

“Perhaps neither.  He didn’t appear to have changed at all.  His eye…” his sentence trailed off momentarily.  “That man isn’t who he says he is.”

“What?” Ienzo sighed, furrowing his brows in thought.  “But if he isn’t Xigbar, and he’s not Braig… then who is he?”

Luxord shook his head.  “I haven’t the foggiest.  I’ve been trying to spy on him, but I’ve not gathered much in the way of useful information.” He turned his attention to his young friend with a flash of guilt in his eyes.  “Demyx, I brought you to Twilight Town because I figured he wouldn’t go looking for you there. It was a long shot, but I didn’t have much time to think.”

Demyx smiled, grateful for the rescue, but still puzzled.  He had to know where the others were. “What about Larxene?  Where is she now?”

Luxord’s face fell.  “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to rescue Larxene.  By the time I went back for her, she was gone.  I don’t know where she and Marluxia went.”

There was silence for a moment while everyone processed the news.  The air was heavy with sadness and foreboding. Demyx bit his lip to stifle his emotions.  He kept repeating his own reassurances in his head like a mantra, reminding himself that they were only missing.

Luxord picked up where he left off, unwilling to let anyone grieve for people who could still be alive.  “I’m here because I want to find them. Xigbar is up to something, and he could be dangerous. He’s been talking nonsense, having conversations with thin air, and he’s watching me.  Any time I thought I was alone, he would show up just around the corner. So I took off. I can only assume he is still following me, but is avoiding this place for some reason.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“I’m not sure I can evade him quite so easily.  Traveling by way of darkness always leaves a trace.  But I had no choice. I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t urgent.”

Isa offered a theory, knowing Xigbar was a capable opponent, but had never been one for confrontation, preferring to manipulate any situation to his advantage with words instead.  “He knows he’d be outnumbered if he came here. Maybe he just doesn’t want to get his ass kicked.”

Ienzo shook his head with a sensible counter argument.  “We can't count on him being alone. Marluxia and Larxene are still missing.  They could be in league with him.”

“Then perhaps he is just biding his time.”

“Man, you guys are slow.  I thought you all were supposed to be smart?”

Every head whirled around toward the doorway to find Lea in his pajamas, leaning with a hand on his hip and an expression of annoyed impatience.  Luxord couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. “Is that the sonorous, grating dissonance of Axel’s voice I hear?”

Lea shot him a sly grin.  “Luxord, you rotten son of a bitch, get over here.”

The two made their way toward each other and Lea pulled him in for an enthusiastic bear hug.  Always having sat beside each other in the round room, they’d developed a pleasant friendship in their Organization days, and Lea was thrilled to see him again.

“I’m glad to see that you’re well, Axel.”

“I’m downright spoiled,” he finally broke the embrace to glare at the rest of the room’s inhabitants.  “Not one of you asshats was gonna tell me he was here? Seriously?”

Isa cast his eyes to the side, shrugging.  “Sorry, Lea…”

“I’ll deal with you later,” Lea wrapped an arm around Luxord’s shoulder in a brotherly manner.  “Luxord, how the heck are ya?”

“Considering the circumstances, I’m unusually relaxed at the moment.”

Axel‘s eyebrows raised almost maniacally.  “Well that’s just great. Since it’s three in the morning, why don’t you capitalize on that and get some sleep?  We can all continue this discussion in the morning.”

Luxord nodded with a soft smile, then approached Master Ansem almost nervously.  “Sir, I have come seeking sanctuary. I understand this puts you and your apprentices at great risk, but I am willing to help get to the bottom of this if you’ll provide shelter for me.”

Master Ansem raised a hand to halt the formalities with a cheerful face.  “Luxord, you are more than welcome.” He yawned, letting his shoulders slump with fatigue.  “Perhaps Lea is right. We would all benefit from a good night’s rest. The brain works much better when it’s given a break.”

“I suppose I can indulge in a brief respite,” Luxord agreed, having only just realized how exhausted he was.  “Master Ansem, I am grateful for your hospitality.”

Master Ansem waved away the ingratiation.  “Yes, yes, all is well. Pleasant dreams, friends.  We shall reconvene in the morning.” He headed for the door but paused momentarily when he reached it.  He turned back with a stern expression. “That means you too, Ienzo.”

Ienzo dropped his head sheepishly.  “Yes, sir…” He nodded politely at Luxord before obeying Master Ansem’s orders and heading for bed.   “Happy to have you back, Luxord. Goodnight.”

Lea sighed, then turned to the remaining occupants.  “All right, then. Demyx, why don’t you show Luxord where he’ll sleep and then— Demyx?  Are you crying?”

Demyx hastily wiped his face, sniffling.  “No… I’m not crying…”

Isa was instinctively compelled to go to him, having spent so long acting as his protector and providing emotional support for his younger friend.  But before he could move a muscle, he felt Lea’s hand on his shoulder, halting him in his tracks. His friend was smiling as he watched the scene unfold before them.  Luxord was brushing the tears off of Demyx’s cheeks, only for Demyx to spill some more. Realizing he couldn’t hope to stay ahead of the flow, he gave up and let his arms enfold the young musician, clearly fighting back his own emotional outbreak at the same time.

“Buck up, now, Demyx,” Luxord chortled.  “This is no time for tears.”

“Of course it is…!”

Their tender moment was moving for Lea and Isa, each of them easily making the connection to their own emotional reunion in this very room several weeks ago. A lump formed in Lea’s throat and he quickly cleared it away and attempted to lighten the mood.  “What is it with this room and tearful reunions?”

Isa laughed, no longer dreading the heavy feeling in his own eyes.  He took Lea’s hand, tugging him toward the door. “I think we should leave them alone.  Let’s go back to bed, Lea.”

“Yeah, I gotta get out of here or I’m gonna start crying too.  Goodnight, boys!”

Luxord watched them leave with an eyebrow raised.  He whispered to Demyx, very obviously confused. “Were they…?” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead gesturing in a way that Demyx couldn’t interpret.

“Huh?  Oh, Axel and Isa?  Yeah, we’re all taking bets on when they’re finally gonna get back together.”

Luxord squeezed his shoulder, waiting for his young friend to lead the way out.  “I should like to join that game. Can’t resist a good wager.”

Demyx smirked.  “If we let you in on it, we’ll have to start betting with real munny.”

“It’s not a real bet if there’s no munny involved!”

They laughed as they walked out of the lab together.  Demyx took Luxord to the first guest room he could find, right next to Lea’s bedroom.  The two sat on the floor and talked for almost an hour, catching up on everything they could think of.  They talked about the Organization, their pasts — at least the portions they could remember — their last few days before Xehanort’s demise, the weeks that had passed since then, and everything in between.  Demyx would have babbled for hours if it meant Luxord wouldn’t leave.

Eventually, Luxord yawned enormously, stretching his limbs as far as they would reach.  “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the remainder of this conversation, Demyx. I can scarcely keep my eyes open.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to sleep after all this excitement…”

Luxord snorted.  “Well, you’ll have to figure that out on your own.  I’m far too bone-weary to count your sheep for you tonight.  But before you go, I’ve one request.”

“What’s that?”

“Would you play me something on your sitar?”

Demyx could have kissed him.  He gleefully pulled out his instrument and tuned it up, thrilled to have another chance to perform for his best friend after all this time.  He strummed a few strings, warming himself up, then announced his piece.

“I call this one ‘Ace in the Hole.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been holding onto this one for a long time! Can't wait to hear what you all think of it! Thanks for reading!


	18. Test Subjects

“Ienzo?  You’re up early.”

He jumped, startled by the sound of Even’s voice.  The scientist strolled into the lab and stood with his back turned, organizing his workspace while Ienzo scrambled to make it look as though he were working on something other than the collection of papers in front of him.  “Um, yes, good morning, Even…”

Suspicious of his tone, Even turned to glance at him as he frantically turned over several pages of unknown documents.  He took a few steps in the young apprentice’s direction, Ienzo’s small frame growing tense as the gap closed. “I see. You’re up late?”

Ienzo didn’t answer, avoiding eye contact and shuffling pages around the desk in an uncharacteristically disorganized fashion.  With a soft sigh, Even laid his hands on the brushed metal surface, bending down to his level. “We talked about this, Ienzo.”

Huffing with frustration, Ienzo left the documents alone and clasped his hands together, refusing to let himself fidget any longer.  “I really did try this time.”

“What is it you’re working on?”

Ienzo scooted the papers away, hoping to slide them out of Even’s reach, but was quickly intercepted.  Even turned one of the pages over and read only a few lines before setting it aside with a grimace. “Ienzo, why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because I think they need to know.”

“Perhaps they do, but you don’t have to be the one to tell them.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

Ienzo hesitated before sliding another document toward him.  Even took a longer look this time, scanning the page in its entirety.  His eyes filled with sympathy the further down they skimmed, until finally he laid it back down on the desk.  He reached for the boy and clasped his hand.

“Ienzo, you were only a child.  You mustn't blame yourself for—”

“I was old enough to know better.”

“And young enough to be afraid.  This wasn’t your fault. You must understand that.”

Ienzo heard his words clearly, but hadn’t absorbed them.  He had come to decipher the corrupted documents marked by Braig, hoping the contents might offer a clue to his motives, and stumbled upon a collection of reports hidden away in a folder that had been password protected.  When he finally managed to crack the code and open the files, he wished he’d never read a single word of them. Each report was more disturbing than the last, and Ienzo could feel his stomach clench as he read page after page of data so troubling that he thought he would be sick.  He considered deleting the entire folder and walking away, pretending the reports never existed. Pretending those events had never happened. Perhaps they’d all be better off without such knowledge. But if the documents would help the team stop Xigbar from wreaking any more havoc on the worlds, then he had no choice but to present them.

So, he printed them, peeling them out of the machine with only his fingertips as if just touching them were repulsive.  As he sorted them, deciding which ones would be relevant to the impending discussion, he felt more and more unclean. He held the pages at a distance and brushed his hands on his coat every time he was forced to make contact with them.  After awhile, he was simply shuffling them like a deck of cards, reordering them for no real reason other than to keep his hands busy while his mind put together what he would say to everyone as he revealed them.

Without realizing it, Ienzo had tightened his grip on Even’s fingers, squeezing until they turned red.  Even never flinched, instead sweeping the papers aside to stop the boy from staring at them. “Ienzo, put these away.  I don’t know where you found them, but they’re doing you more harm than good.”

“I can’t.  I have to bring them with me.”

“Where?”

Ienzo paused when he realized that Even had no idea what had transpired the previous night.  He swallowed hard, quickly putting together a short but thorough explanation. “Luxord is here.  He showed up in the middle of the night without warning, telling us that Xigbar was planning something and we have to figure out what he’s going to do.  I’m sorry, I meant to tell you this morning and invite you to join us.”

Even’s jaw dropped with surprise at the news.  “Luxord? Xigbar? But how…?”

“We don’t know how, that’s why we’re having this gathering.  He’s going to explain everything. You really should come along.”

Even appeared to be intrigued, but took a step back, crossing his arms.  There was visible conflict in his face and he lowered his voice as he made his query.  “Who all will be present?”

Ienzo raised an eyebrow, counting on his fingers as he listed the attendees.  “Everyone who saw him last night. Master Ansem, Me, Demyx, Isa, Lea…”

The scientist’s body shuddered slightly.  His eyes dropped, concealing a sudden flash of emotion, and his posture stiffened considerably.  His back was rigid and his shoulders pulled forward as if he were attempting to curl up into a ball.  He paced back and forth, absentmindedly rubbing his neck, massaging an apparent sore spot. The room was silent for several moments, except for the sound of his hesitant footsteps.  Finally, he stopped, turning to the young apprentice with a short exhale. “I’ve somewhere to be. You can brief me later.”

There was a choice to make.  Ienzo could confront him or he could let the matter drop.  All of his instincts — and his extensive study of psychology — told him that it would be better for the man if he said something.  It may have been a bad time for such a conversation, but there never was a good time for it. This was not the first incident. It was not the second.  It likely would not be the last. He only wanted to be helpful. But, Ienzo considered, Even was a grown man and could make his own decisions. He required no input from an inexperienced pupil who clearly had his own issues to address.  Ienzo questioned whether it was even his place to speak up.

With an understanding nod, he left Even alone, returning his focus to the papers in front of him.  The meeting would start soon. For just a brief moment, he thought he might leave the papers there on the desk.  Who could say whether the information would be a relevant contribution to the discussion? Perhaps the reports would only serve to upset his friends while bringing nothing useful to the table.  He glanced at his fellow apprentice, somehow hoping that he would have the answer. Even was staring at him, having relaxed some. He offered nothing but a tired, fatherly smile and a few kind words.

“I can’t make this decision for you, Ienzo,” he murmured, his voice softening to an almost weary tone.  “But if you do go through with it, I am confident that things will turn out right.”

Too flustered to speak, Ienzo could only smile back as he rose from his chair and collected a few of the pages.  Even gave him a supportive pat on the back as he passed him by before turning to his work for the day. Ienzo took a long breath before finally exiting the room, never once looking back as he made his slow trek to the dining hall.  Another sizeable breath was enough to send him through the door and into his seat beside Ansem the Wise. He made no eye contact with his friends as they waited for the discussion to commence. Food was being passed around, but he couldn’t even think about eating.  He could only stare at the table, paralyzed with nerves and supposing he’d never feel ready for this. There simply was no way to make this easy, and he needed to accept that. Just when he began to entertain the idea of bolting out of his chair and fleeing from the room, the door swung open, turning every head with its creaking, and Luxord walked inside.

* * *

Isa was beginning to think the meeting would never end.  The discussion seemed to go in circles, repeating key points ad nauseum and dragging on until the food had grown cold.  Even after all that time, the group was no closer to an answer than when they’d started, and after awhile, Isa struggled to pay attention.  He could admit that the news of Xigbar’s suspicious activity made him nervous. The man’s haunting smile was the first thing Isa saw when he opened his eyes as a human, and that frightening image would be burned into his memory for an eternity.

“I still don’t understand how he could still be Xigbar,” Ienzo was tapping his fingers on the table, his brows pulled into a perplexed scowl.  “He had to have been defeated in order for Xehanort’s plan to work, didn’t he?”

Beside him, Master Ansem tilted his head as he theorized.  “Is it possible that he was not?”

“I don’t see how,” Luxord answered, crossing his arms and staring intently into his plate.  “Xehanort required thirteen clashes to forge his bloody key.”

There was a brief pause as the apprentices scratched their heads with confusion, unable to reconcile the conflicting facts they’d been presented.  Luxord laid his palm on the table, grabbing their attention before continuing his explanation. “Like I said, he isn’t who he claims to be. I asked him myself who he was.  He avoided answering and would often repeat the question back to me,” he paused, glancing around in Isa’s direction briefly before going on. “Whether he’s concealed his true identity all this time or his body is being possessed, I am not certain.  But there’s more to him than any of us could have guessed, and I suspect he had a larger role in this whole mess than he ever let on.”

How Isa wished that those words were not true.  He wanted nothing more than to believe that Xigbar was just a delusional, senile old man, talking to himself like the nutcase he was.  The thought of his body being possessed — and the consideration of who might be possessing it — turned his stomach.

“Luxord,” Master Ansem turned to his newest guest.  “What was it you overheard him saying that prompted you to rush here in the middle of the night?”

Luxord set down the cup from which he’d taken a sip.  

“I caught the tail end of a conversation wherein he babbled almost incoherently about reincarnation and time travel.  I insist, he sounded positively mad. He spoke of releasing a powerful spirit from another realm, something about finding a proper vessel, restoring some timeline, it all sounded like utter nonsense.  But what made me come here was hearing him mention reviving his master.”

“Reviving his master… you think he meant Xehanort?”

“I’m not sure  _ what  _ he meant.  He sounded like a complete loon.  There was no one there with him — I heard no voices responding.  He was conversing with empty space.”

Isa had to consciously remind himself how to breathe.  There was no way. Xehanort was dead and gone. He couldn’t be revived.  It was  _ impossible _ .  He changed the subject, endeavoring to just avoid the topic altogether.  “Last night, you said Xigbar was watching you. Why didn’t he follow you here?  It’s not like it would take many guesses for him to discern your location.”

Lea jumped in before Luxord could offer a guess, gesticulating wildly as he spoke.  “This is just what I was talking about last night! You guys are forgetting the one big wrench in his plan — the unexpected twist that he didn’t prepare for.”

“And what’s that?”

“You, Isa.  I don’t think he counted on losing you.”

Isa shuddered, averting his eyes.  “I don’t understand.”

Lea elaborated as if he didn’t notice how his theory had disturbed him.  “There’s a reason he went after you the first time you recompleted, and Luxord said he was talking about vessels.  I’m betting he hoped he’d get you back just like before. He might have intended to use you, but we got to you first this time.  Now you’re here and he’s probably scrambling trying to come up with a plan B.”

Isa pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting his earlier frustration and boredom with the endlessly cycling discussion.  By now he had grown weary of the dark turn the conversation had taken. Finally, they were getting somewhere, and now, with this disturbing news about Xigbar, he wished that they weren’t.  “I suppose you have a point. But why me?”

“We… we might have some insight into that.”

It was Ienzo’s meek voice that had answered him.  Heads turned, and when they met his gaze, they were shocked to see the look on his face.  His eyes stared into the polished wood of the table, deeply troubled, as if he’d been traumatized.  He was wringing his hands and shivering in his seat. Several times he opened his mouth, but said nothing, appearing to mentally coax himself to speak.  After a tense beat, Ansem the Wise gave him a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Go on, Ienzo.  They deserve to know.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, collecting himself before clearing his throat and beginning his explanation.  “Alright… I found a lot of the reports from the experiments that were performed on you and Lea when you two were test subjects.”

Isa’s spine straightened, and he felt Lea’s follow suit.  There was a gasp from the end of the table where Luxord and Demyx sat.  “You… you guys were test subjects?”

There was a brief, awkward silence before Lea answered him, wincing as he spoke.  “Yes. Xehanort experimented on us when we were kids.”

Demyx’s mouth was hanging open in disbelief.  “Cripes… that’s awful.”

Isa remembered well the day they had joined the apprentices.  They had once again managed to sneak into the castle and were caught, but this time, instead of throwing them out, Aeleus and Dilan brought them to Master Ansem for a stern lecture.

 

_ “Ah, so this is young Isa.” _

Arms folded.  Back straight.  Stone face. Say nothing.

_ “I must say, it takes cunning to be able to break into my castle.  I was certain that nothing could get past Aeleus and Dilan here. Very impressive.” _

Clever of him, trying to draw you in with a compliment.  Don’t react. Lock eyes. Say nothing.

_ “Despite being thrown out numerous times, you had the gall to make several further attempts to infiltrate my abode.  I don’t know what it is you want, my boy, but you certainly have shown fierce determination. Quite frankly, I admire you.” _

Praising you for your crimes.  He wants something. Keep still.  Ice cold. Say nothing.

_ “The Honorable Justice has told me that you are causing trouble elsewhere in town as well.  Petty theft, gang violence, noise disturbance…” _

He’s trying to break you.  This is getting tiresome. Don’t submit.  Say nothing.

_ “All right.  I’ll cut to the chase.  You are a nuisance, and they intend to place you into a juvenile detention facility, but I have no desire to imprison you.” _

He pities you.  What a brave and noble mistake he has made.

“You think I can’t take it?”

Nice job, big shot.  You blew it.

Laughter.  A jolly, grandfatherly chuckle.  Oddly sincere. Uncomfortably warm.

_ “I would be more fearful for the safety of the other prisoners than for yours.” _

Say nothing.  Say nothing. Say nothing.

_ “Isa, you are a force to be reckoned with.  I would rather have you as an ally than an enemy.  In the interest of keeping the peace in Radiant Garden, and steering you away from trouble, I would like to offer you the chance to become my apprentice.  You would live here in the castle, and you would assist me in my research of the heart. I think you would be well suited to join Aeleus and Dilan and become a junior guard.  In return you would be fed, housed, and educated.” _

Charity.  He’s offering you charity.  No, he wants your obedience in exchange.  It’s a bribe. Intriguing, nonetheless.

“One condition.”

_ “I hardly think you’re in a position to be making demands, boy.” _

“Then the answer is no.”

Stand your ground.  Chin up. Be patient.

_ “Very well.  What is it?” _

“Lea.  He joins, too.”

A smile and a handshake.  You’re in. It all begins today.

_ “Welcome to the team, Isa.  I look forward to working with you and your friend.” _

 

Isa waved away the sudden onslaught of memories and set the conversation back on track.  “Tell us about the reports, Ienzo. What did they contain?”

“First and foremost,” Ienzo took a breath.  “Braig’s name is on nearly every single one of them.”

He reached under the table and pulled out a small stack of papers.  After taking a moment to flip through them, he seemed to hesitate before laying them down where Lea and Isa could see them.  They were filled with complex data, most of it beyond their comprehension, but the names on each document were unmistakable. Isa.  Lea. Xehanort. Braig.

“These documents are dated back well before you joined the apprentices.  Every time you and Lea snuck into the castle and got caught, they… well, the reports suggest that they were only trying to wipe your memories of the castle so that you wouldn’t reveal your knowledge of the human testing.  But it seems they did much more than that.”

Neither Lea nor Isa touched the papers, avoiding them as if they were venomous.  Though he tried not to look, Isa couldn’t peel his eyes off of them. The longer he stared, the more information he was able to interpret among the jargon.  His own name was plastered all over page after page. There were words he recognized. Extraction. Fragmentation. Separation. Collapse. Goosebumps rose on his skin and his stomach writhed, yet he did not stop reading.

 

_ Administrator: Xehanort _

_ Subject: Isa (No. VII) _

_ Analysis: Subject’s heart has thus far successfully endured a number of experiments with no lasting damage.  Although not resistant to darkness, subject possesses the ability to wield his darkness like a weapon. Further study is required to determine the extent of subject’s power. _

_ Test: Subject was asked to cause harm to Subject VIII _

_ Methods: N/A, subject was groomed traditionally for this test _

_ Results: Subject refused to complete test.  Additional darkness was introduced. Subject still did not comply.  Memories were fragmented and replaced. Although subject failed to recognize Subject VIII, still did not comply.  Subject became violent toward Test Administrator and was sedated. _

_ Conclusion:  Failure. Memories restored.  Heart intact. _

_ Notes: Subject possesses strong will and protective impulses.  May cause complications in future testing. Increased conditioning required. _

Every sentence sent another chill down the back of his neck.  He could see it all. Vividly, as if it were being acted out in front of him, he could see himself strapped to a metal table.  It was cold — he remembered finding it odd that the cold bothered him. He asked where Lea had gone, but every question was met with a sudden jolt through his chest.  He could still feel the pain. He felt the pressure, the heaviness of darkness being poured into him in enormous quantities. He closed his eyes. His mantra was only one word:  _ Resist _ .  He asked again and again for Lea, accepting the same punishment each time.  The only relief he could enjoy was when he finally passed out.

“Braig took an interest in you in particular, Isa,” Ienzo continued shakily.  “He saw something in you, and he lured you into Xehanort’s grasp so that he could perform experiments on you.”

“How?”

“By planting false memories in you both.  He gave you a reason to keep coming back to the castle.”

Isa turned toward Lea.  The man refused to look at the papers, but his eyes widened at the news. “The girl…?  Subject X?”

“Never existed,” Ienzo answered solemnly.  “There was never any test subject labeled X.”

 

_ Administrator: Braig _

_ Subject: Isa (No. VII) _

_ Analysis: Subject’s strong will interferes with experiments.  The purpose of the following procedures is to weaken resolve in order to produce more successful results in future testing. _

_ Test: Routine Conditioning _

_ Methods: Memory manipulation, Flooding, Manual degradation (if other methods fail) _

_ Results: Absorption.  Flooding seemed to have no permanent effect on balance.  Additional energy appears to be stored for later use. Subject’s unique abilities continue to manifest with increasing clarity.  Upon provocation, subject entered an alternate state of being wherein he became violent toward Test Administrator and was subsequently sedated.  Manual degradation was not required. _

_ Conclusion:  Success. Subject responds appropriately to specific triggers and it is believed that with further experimentation, he could be controlled. _

_ Notes: Subject becomes a danger to himself and others when his ability is activated.  Recommend caution — subject should be restrained for future tests. _

 

“Xehanort experimented on your heart night after night, shocked that you endured the tests without collapsing.” Ienzo’s words began to waver as he spoke.  “Isa, those experiments amounted to nothing more than senseless torture. It’s all so gruesome and vile…”

Isa pushed the reports away, repulsed by their contents.  He leaned back and wrapped his jacket more tightly around himself.  They were all staring at him. He could feel it. They were waiting for him to respond.  He figured he ought to say something. Not so much to lighten the mood, but to ease their anxiety.  But he could think of nothing. Nothing would have made an adequate response. Nothing would appropriately convey how he felt in that moment.  Shocked wasn’t enough. Disturbed wasn’t enough. All he wanted now was to be anywhere but in this room.

“That being said,” Ienzo concluded, lifting the papers from the table with an obviously trembling hand.  “I think we should exercise caution. Something about you caught Braig’s attention, and what followed was nothing short of a tragedy.  He might be biding his time or lying in wait, but he could still have his eye on you, Isa.”

The apprentices absentmindedly picked at the scraps left from the meal, most of the food having grown cold and unpalatable.  A pitcher of orange juice had separated, the pulp all sinking to the bottom. Coffee cups remained untouched. The harsh squeaking of silverware on the ceramic plates had ceased and left yet another tense silence.  Every mind burned with questions they were too afraid to ask. Chests fluttered with anticipation and fear. Spines shook with the sickening chill of foreboding. Stomachs turned, mouths dried. The air was heavy enough to smother them, yet in their paralysis, not one of them possessed the clarity to stand and open a window.

“If I may pose a question…” Luxord ended the hiatus at last, giving voice to the concern shared by all at the table.  “Is it possible that Xehanort still lives?”

There was collective gulp before Ienzo reluctantly gave his most logical answer.  “I suppose anything is possible. If even one small part of him lives… it’s enough.”

“And if Xigbar was talking about time travel,” Lea added.  “I mean, Xehanort was all over that. Maybe Xigbar is going to use it to bring him back…”

“But what did he mean when he said ‘restoring the timeline?’”

“He mentioned resetting time to avoid a terrible fate from the past,” Luxord clarified.  “He could conceivably go back and reset everything Sora accomplished. He said now that the hero sleeps, his plan can be set in motion.”

Isa hadn’t realized that his hands were shaking until he felt Lea’s folding around them.  The two shared a look before returning their attention to the discussion. Demyx abruptly rose from his seat and headed toward the kitchen.  “I’m going to make some more coffee.”

Before anyone could stop him, he was gone.  His exit was followed with even more silence, which Isa sought to fill immediately before his anxious thoughts got away from him again.  “We need a plan.”

Ansem the Wise nodded, turning.  “Luxord, where would you suppose Xigbar is right now?”

“The last place I saw him was in the Keyblade Graveyard.  But he disappeared rather often. I’ve no idea where he was going.”

Ansem hummed in thought.  “Still, the Keyblade Graveyard is a good place to start.  Perhaps we should send some people there.”

“Terra and Aqua would know the place pretty well,” Ienzo offered.  “We could ask them to go and investigate.”

Without even thinking it through, Isa spoke up, to everyone’s surprise.  “Send me with them.”

Lea’s jaw dropped, his expression one of utter disbelief.  “Isa, are you crazy? After everything we just heard? You could be exactly what Xigbar wants to get his hands on!”

“We don’t know that.  We have no idea what his motives are.”

Lea hadn’t budged, glaring incredulously.  “Luxord said he was talking about vessels!”

Uneasy, Isa shied away from him, turning instead to his companions across the table.  “Then perhaps my presence might tempt him to come out of hiding.”

“Are you suggesting going as bait?!”

With a sigh, Isa addressed his increasingly angry friend.  “I wouldn’t have called it that, but I suppose that’s the idea.”

Lea shook his head, crossing his arms.  “No way. It’s way too dangerous. It’s suicide.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Damn it, Isa, if you go there he could—!”

_ “Lea!” _

When he caught the look on Lea’s face, he regretted raising his voice almost immediately.  The man fell silent and spoke not another word, avoiding eye contact for the remainder of the discussion.  Isa held his breath, trying to swallow down the suffocating guilt at seeing how much he’d hurt him.

Master Ansem stepped in before the spat could continue.  “Be at ease, my friends. There’s no need to make any rash decisions now.  We will speak with Terra and Aqua. This mission will require careful planning — we cannot afford a misfire.”

Before anyone could interrupt, he turned and addressed Lea sternly.  “As one of our keyblade wielders, Lea, you may be called upon for some very dangerous tasks.  It would be prudent to hone your skills with some additional training.”

Fuming, Lea never met Ansem’s eyes as he acknowledged the request.  “Yes, sir.”

Master Ansem nodded.  “I think that settles it for now.  There is much to be done. Let us waste no time.”

The only person to leave the table was Luxord.  Master Ansem and Ienzo remained in their seats, whispering to each other so quietly that it was a wonder they could hear themselves.  Isa was locked in place, uncertain of where he would go now or what he would do. Lea was perfectly motionless, still refusing to face anyone else in the room.  Isa reached for his shoulder. “Lea—“

“Save it.”

Lea shrugged him off with a scowl.  There would be no arguing with him now.  It had been a long while since Isa had seen him so angry, and the guilt of knowing he was the reason tore him up.  He fell silent, respecting his friend’s wishes and endeavoring not to make anything worse.

After some time had passed, Lea huffed, dropping a fist onto the table.  “So Braig managed to drag you in here every night so Xehanort could play heart surgery on you, and what was I doing?  Sitting and watching? Just letting it all happen?”

“Lea, it wasn’t your fault—“

“How can you be so sure of that?”

Ienzo spoke up, his tone cautious and sympathetic.  “I do have some more information here that might explain some things.  It’s… a little unsettling, but if it will put you at ease—“

Lea abruptly stood and made his way toward the door, taking long strides as quickly as he could.  Concerned, Isa called out to him. “Lea?”

“I don’t want to hear about it.  I’ll be upstairs.”

“Lea, wait.  Are you alright?”

Without another word, he exited the room and disappeared down the hall.  Isa sat watching the door in silence for several seconds before heaving a sigh.  “I should go after him.”

“Probably,” Ienzo agreed.

“Tell me what Xehanort did to him.”

Another hesitation, further showcasing the young apprentice’s unusual discomfort for the topic.  After a moment to collect himself, he resumed his explanation. “It seems he wasn’t seeing the results he wanted from Lea.  His heart was far more resistant to the darkness to which it was exposed. His light is so strong and so potent that Xehanort wasn’t able to manipulate it as well, so he had to weaken it.”

“How?”

“He…” Ienzo winced.  “He severed the metaphysical bond between your hearts.”

Isa’s eyes narrowed.  “He what?”

“Our hearts form connections with people that we care about, and are thus made stronger by those bonds.” The young apprentice was absentmindedly rubbing his own chest as he spoke.  “Naturally, you and Lea shared one, and Xehanort forcibly broke it.”

“He can do that…?”

“Yes.  The process is… it’s cruel and vicious.  Xehanort was desperate, and he used some of the most inhumane practices imaginable.  These reports are disgusting…”

He cut off when his voice broke.  His skin had grown alarmingly pale and his face glistened with sweat.  Master Ansem smiled, affectionately rubbing his back. “That was a good thing you did, Ienzo.”

It was barely eleven o’clock, yet Isa already felt like he would need a nap after this.  The horrendous gauntlet of memories and emotions had all but drained him completely. His mind raced with questions.  Why was he so special? What did Braig see in him? What was it about Isa that had so piqued his interest that he’d resort to torturing a child in the name of research?  As far as Isa was concerned, this was the final straw. Braig had injured him enough. He was now fiercely determined to stop him from doing the same to anyone else.

“Isa,” Master Ansem roused him from his thoughts, speaking persuasively.  “I understand that you wish to protect your friends. But you mustn’t allow yourself to become wrapped up in feelings of remorse or revenge.  Sacrificing yourself won’t help anyone.”

After a considerable pause, Isa relaxed his posture.  “If even a small part of Xehanort lives… if Xigbar is still Xigbar, and he still hosts a portion of his heart… then he can still make copies.  He could build another Organization.”

“He needs replicas to do that.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Isa countered.  “All he needs are people. People he knows can withstand the loss of their heart.  People like us.”

_ People like me. _

“Please, sir… you have to let me go and stop him.”

Ansem the Wise sat and pondered the request in a long, heavy silence.  His fingers were clasped at his lips, his eyes closed in thought. No one dared move a muscle while awaiting his response.  Finally, he dropped his hands and nodded. “Very well. I will permit you to join Terra on the investigation. But I must insist that you avoid doing anything bold or foolish.”

“You have my word, Master.”

Ienzo, looking more sickly than ever, finally stood and slid his chair into place.  “Even is expecting me.”

“Take care of yourself, Ienzo.”

The young apprentice hurried out of the room, leaving the reports behind on the table.  Isa rested on his elbows, lost in thought again. He had half-hoped that Ansem the Wise would forbid him leaving and insist that he stay inside the safe confines of the castle.  At least then he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing how deeply he’d wounded his best friend. In his eagerness, Isa had failed to see the situation through Lea’s eyes.  He supposed that were their positions reversed, he would be just as apprehensive of him going out to such a dangerous place, knowing what was at risk. He’d be just as frightened of losing him again.  He might even be just as angry at how powerless he’d feel, knowing that nothing he said would convince his friend otherwise.

“Isa,” Master Ansem lowered his voice.  “Surely you understand that Lea is angry because he cares for you.  He is frightened that he will lose you again, and I’m not entirely certain that his fears are unreasonable.”

Isa dropped his eyes.  “I know… but I have to do this.  We worked too hard for the peace we’ve attained.  I couldn’t bear the thought of…”

When he failed to complete his thought, Master Ansem restated his position.  “Your concern is valid. But it would be illogical for you to assume the responsibility alone.  We are a team. Whatever Braig or Xigbar is planning, it will take all of us to stop him. You needn’t take it all upon yourself.”

Another rush of memories.  The image of the keyblade graveyard.  There they stood in a row, patiently awaiting the clash between darkness and light, knowing full well that they were little more than lambs to be sacrificed.  He remembered his last conversation with the man Xigbar used to be — the man he should have been. Isa told him it didn’t have to be this way. But it was Xigbar’s response that stopped him in his tracks.   _ This is the only way out. _

“If we can stop him in time… If we can purge him,” Isa spoke softly as the realization washed over him.  “Perhaps Braig could be saved.”

Ansem the Wise raised an eyebrow.  “Intriguing…”

“He could be a victim just like I was.  If he wants help, I think I can get through to him.”

Ansem seemed to be wrapped up in a fond memory for a moment before replying.  “I hope that you are right, Isa.”

Xigbar was an ass from top to bottom, and Braig had been no better.  The thought of facing him again, of risking the heart he had fought so vehemently to reclaim, filled Isa with trepidation.  But he clung to that glimmer of hope that things were not as grim as they seemed. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try.

“I’d better go and talk to Lea.”

“I think that would be wise,” Master Ansem agreed.  “But I also think that you should take the time to listen.”

“Yes, sir,” Isa nodded, rising from his seat and heading for the door.  “Thank you.”

In no time, Isa was standing outside his bedroom, trying to convince himself to enter.  He could hear nothing on the other side of the door and wondered if Lea was even in there.  Out of time to stall, he inhaled and opened the door, cautiously stepping inside.

“Lea.”

Lea had been sitting on the bed, fiddling with what looked like an ice cream stick.  “What do you want?”

“I want to talk.”

“Pfft,” he tossed the stick into a drawer.  “I don’t see the point now.”

“I do.”

Lea rose to his feet, finally facing him.  “So, you’re going?”

Isa dropped his head.  “Lea, I’m sorry.”

“Just forget it.  Your mind‘s made up.  What else is there to discuss?”

“Plenty.”

Lea began to pace, folding his arms and breathing rapidly through his nose.  “This is just… stupid! You’re gonna rush right back into the middle of the battlefield and you think you’ll come back in one piece?  You think you’re gonna take him down single-handedly? Save the world like some kind of hero? That isn’t brave, Isa, it’s reckless!”

“That’s not what it’s about.”

“Then at least tell me why!”

Isa took a breath.  “I’m not trying to prove anything.  I’m just trying to make sure no one else suffers the same fate I did —  _ we  _ did.”

He sat on the bed and with visible reluctance, Lea joined him, facing the opposite direction and refusing to look him in the eye.  Isa could see that he was trembling with his fingers tightly closing around the sheets beneath him. He carefully approached him, only barely grazing his arm before the man jerked away.  He sighed, allowing him his space. He knew this would not be easy. He knew there was a chance Lea would never warm up to the idea. Now, on the cusp of losing his best friend yet again, Isa could only hope his explanation would be satisfactory.

“Xehanort has ruined enough.  He’s destroyed entire worlds, ended millions of lives, and nearly induced an apocalypse,” he cautiously placed a hand on Lea’s shoulder.  “It isn’t personal. Not entirely. What he did to us was heinous, but we came back. Not all of his victims were so lucky.”

Lea’s body shook harder until it was quite obvious that he was crying.  The sound of it was agonizing. Every sob hammered painfully into Isa’s heart like nails.  He tugged gently at the man’s shirt, drawing him closer.

“Hey…”

The moment he had his arms around him was when Lea broke down.  Racked with guilt, Isa could only sit there, frozen, holding his friend while he cried into his shoulder.  He watched in shame as the tears melted into his jacket. Tears that  _ he  _ caused.  Tears that were shed for  _ him. _

Several seconds passed before Lea was able to speak.  “All of it was a lie…” he sobbed, moisture pouring down his face faster than he could wipe it away.  “We kept coming back here just so he could tear your heart into pieces and I did nothing…”

“A lot of our memories were erased,” Isa murmured.  “For all we know, you fought tooth and nail.”

“It was all his fault… all those wasted years…”

“It’s alright now.”

Lea abruptly pulled away, raising his voice with every sentence until he was shouting in anguish.  “How many times did I go to bed wondering what happened to us? Wondering what I did? All this time it was him… it was always him…!”

“Shhh…”

“What else did Ienzo have to say?  What else did Xehanort do to us?”

Isa shook his head.  “I elected not to listen.  It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Though his tears continued to flow, Lea’s episode began to settle and his body gradually relaxed.  The room was quiet for a few moments, except for his soft gasps and hiccoughs. He kept his head down as he whispered hoarsely.  “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you… I couldn’t save us…”

“Lea, look at me,” Isa cupped his chin, brushing the tears from his cheeks.  “We were children. We were just children.”

He coaxed him into his embrace again.  Ten years without being able to hold him had been far too long.  Isa needed this hug just as much as Lea did. “You’re right. It was all Xehanort’s fault.  And he is rightfully dead. I’m going to make absolutely certain that he stays that way.”

“You better come back, Isa,” Lea sniffled.  “Got it memorized?”

Isa smiled.  “I promise I’ll come back.  I’ve got it memorized.”


	19. To Protect What Matters

“Good morning, sunshine!  Wakey wakey!”

Isa heard a familiar voice, but the fog in his mind clouded his ability to identify it.  He struggled greatly in summoning the strength to lift his eyelids, and when he had finally managed to open them, the nauseating vertigo compelled him to snap them shut again.  He was being shaken and nudged, but was too disoriented to look at just who was trying to wake him. His entire body ached. His stomach twisted and turned. It was minutes before the violent spinning had settled enough for Isa to feel safe opening his eyes again.  His vision was still out of focus, but he could see that he was on an unfamiliar world, dry and covered in sand. He would have thought it was Agrabah, but the air was far too still and the sun was nowhere near oppressive enough. He didn’t recognize this place at all.

“What…?  Where am I…?”

“Who cares?  Aren’t you glad to be alive?”

Isa blinked several times, clearing his eyesight to finally have a look at the man kneeling over him.  It was Xigbar, extending a hand to pull him to his feet. Still dizzy, Isa wavered as he stood, an intense, throbbing pain pounding on the inside of his forehead.

“What happened…?”

“Well, Sora mowed us all down, but here we are!”

Of course.  Sora. The soreness across his body suddenly made sense, but why was he still standing?  Was this the afterlife? Would he be spending eternity with  _ Xigbar _ as his only company?  “Right… Sora… but how…?”

Xigbar gestured toward the heavens with a gleeful expression.  “You’ll never believe it, man. Kingdom Hearts is gone!”

Isa turned to look overhead.  Where there was once an enormous heart-shaped moon that was Xemnas’ artificial Kingdom Hearts, there was now only empty sky.  All he could see was a canopy of blue, in stark contrast to the black void that saturated the World That Never Was. “Kingdom Hearts… but… that means…”

“That’s right.  We’ve got our hearts back.”

Xigbar was right -- Isa didn’t believe him.  If Kingdom Hearts was truly destroyed, if they had reclaimed the hearts they’d lost, then they were human again.  It wasn’t possible. He felt the grave injuries, the fatal blow. He felt himself die. He frantically yanked off one of his gloves and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose.  His spirits were crushed almost immediately when his fingertips came in contact with rough, uneven skin. He still had the scar. He could feel that his ears were rounded, and assumed that his eyes had regained their natural teal hue, but the mark that Xemnas had carved between his eyes was permanent.

“Hey, I feel your pain, man…” Xigbar muttered sympathetically.  “I didn’t get my eye back either.”

The pieces didn’t fit.  They should have been dead, every last one of them.  But if he were just a ghost now, he shouldn’t have the scar.  Perhaps it was just a dream. A terrible dream from which he had not yet awakened.

He scanned the terrain, searching for anything familiar.  The area was largely a barren wasteland. In the distance, he could see some tall cliffs.  Scattered across a wide span of the ground were a number of small objects apparently stuck into the dirt, too far away for him to identify.  He turned to his companion, hoping to make sense of everything that had occurred. “Braig… What is this place? Why have you brought me here?  Where are the others? Aeleus? Dilan? Even, Ienzo…?”

Braig shrugged, a look of confusion on his face.  “We turned up in Ansem’s lab, right where we were standing when we lost our hearts.  But there was no one else there when I woke up. Just you.”

Isa’s stomach dropped.  “Lea…?”

Braig shook his head solemnly.  “Sorry, man. I looked everywhere but we were alone.  I couldn’t find any of ‘em.”

Just then, Isa heard the sound of a dark corridor opening behind him, followed by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.  Before he could turn to see who had joined them, the interloper greeted him with a haunting, unfamiliar voice.

“Saïx.  You’re awake.”

Isa whipped around to find an adolescent stranger approaching him.  He couldn’t help but notice that, with his silver hair and yellow eyes, the boy looked quite similar to Xehanort.  He exited the portal, calmly observing Isa from a distance.

Isa took a step back, wary of the strange youth coming his way.  “Who are you?”

The boy clutched his chest, grinning as he feigned offense.  “Oh, Saïx, you’ve wounded me. You truly do not recognize me at all?”

“Xehanort…” Isa whispered, unsure if he should believe that this teen was really who he claimed to be.  “What are you doing here? Why do you look like that?”

Xehanort’s younger self crossed his arms disapprovingly.  “Now, is that any way to greet your master?”

“You’re no master of mine.  I’ve been purged of you at last.”

The boy shook his head.  “A most lamentable setback,” he tutted with mock disappointment.  “I had hoped we could do great things together, Saïx.”

“That’s Isa.  Out of my way.”

“Just where will you go?”

“I’m going to find Lea.”

Xehanort’s eyes widened with surprise and a false expression of sympathy.  “You mean you didn’t know? Oh dear, I’m so sorry, Saïx…”

“Didn’t know what?”

He chuckled softly.  “Lea is gone.”

As if an invisible fist had punched him in the stomach, all the air was squeezed from Isa’s body with a sickening clench in his core.  Braig said they’d landed in the very spots where their hearts had been ripped from their chests. Lea should have been right beside him, lying on the floor of Ansem’s research lab.  Everyone should have been there. Had Lea simply run away? Had he been killed? Was it possible that he hadn’t been revived at all? Isa couldn’t bear the thought. “What? Gone where?”

“Your  _ friend _ woke from his slumber and took off without you,” Xehanort sneered.  “They all did. The apprentices left you and Xigbar lying unconscious in Ansem’s research lab and then just disappeared.  We’ve not seen or heard from any of them.”

There was a faint sound coming from inside Isa’s mind — a persistent static that refused to be silenced, accompanied by a deep vibration in his chest.  The sensations were completely foreign to him, but every word Xehanort said intensified them. “How do you know all of this?”

“I have my ways,” Xehanort replied nonchalantly.  “But isn’t that sad? His first thought after rising from the grave isn't to reunite with you, his childhood companion, but to run as far away from you as possible.  And after everything you’ve been through…” His face fell into a very forced expression of sadness and pity. He meandered lazily in Isa’s direction, folding his arms again and lacing contempt into his voice.  “Some friend he is, to throw your relationship away so easily. For a man who prides himself on ‘getting it memorized,’ he sure forgot about you pretty quickly.”   
As anger began to boil inside of him, Isa closed his eyes, determined not to listen to the boy’s words.  He inhaled deeply through his nose, lowering the rage to a simmer. It was all a bluff. This wasn’t the same Xehanort who had taken over the apprentices and stolen their hearts.  This kid didn’t know a damn thing. His claims were nothing more than harmless taunts and Isa had heard enough.

“What do you want, Xehanort?  Your Kingdom Hearts was destroyed.  Your followers have abandoned you. You lost.  What do you want from me?”

Xehanort halted his trek, sighing softly.  “You were one of my finest vessels, Saïx. I seek to create thirteen seekers of darkness to oppose the seven guardians of light, thereby initiating the second keyblade war.”

Isa blinked.  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Organization XIII,” the boy answered.  “Thirteen empty soldiers. Thirteen clashes.  One ultimate key.”

The utter nonsense spouting from his mouth seemed even less clear each time it was repeated, as if he were speaking a foreign language.  Isa had no idea what a Seeker of Darkness was and had never heard of any keyblade war. It was in that moment that it dawned on him that he and his former comrades were never supposed to get their hearts back.  The entire Organization, Xemnas’ Kingdom Hearts, it was all a ruse. The intention was for every one of them to suffer the same fate Isa did, being forced to share an identity with Xehanort, living as miserable half-formed abominations until the day that they’d finally be lined up like cattle for slaughter and compelled to participate in a battle they could never win.  Sora’s interference had saved them all, but a decade of their lives had been wasted for  _ nothing _ .  Isa bit his lip, tensing every muscle in his body to stop himself killing this petulant child on the spot.

“You would be rewarded,” Xehanort was circling him, slowly and with every step carefully planned.  “I could make you the leader of the new Organization.”

“Not interested.”

“Don’t you understand, Saïx?” the young man leaned in as he spoke.  “You’re  _ special.   _ The previous Organization was filled with unworthy vessels.  Even Xemnas went rogue. But you, Saïx, were a perfect host.”

“And I’m damn thrilled to be rid of you,” Isa retorted.  “Just what motivation would I have to pollute my body with your filth a second time?”

Xehanort closed in on him from behind, his tone persuasive and almost pleading as he whispered uncomfortably close to his ear.  “Don’t you want to be strong again? Surely you’ve noticed how weak you are without me.”

Isa shuddered at the heat of his breath.  His thoughts raced with questions -- about Xehanort’s plan, about Xemnas’ apparent defection, about his missing friends.  He could no longer stand the noise. The drumming in his chest was so vigorous that he could barely breathe. He had to get out of there.  “I don’t have time for this.”

The second he tried to walk away, he was quickly intercepted by the youth, who warped instantly in front of him.  “What’s the hurry? Still hoping you’ll find Lea?”

“Stand aside, Xehanort,” Isa growled through his gritted teeth.

The boy began to laugh out loud, clearly not intimidated by Isa’s aggression.  “You really haven’t changed one bit. Even after all these years. You’re just as stubborn and rebellious as ever.”

Calling for the moon was an impulse now.  Allowing the berserker powers he’d been granted to overwhelm him was a natural instinct.  The anger he felt in this moment was more than enough, yet when he tried to initiate the transformation, nothing happened.  He’d lost the ability to channel energy from the moon. He’d lost his berserker abilities. He was just a pathetic human now, filled with scalding fury which he could no longer use.

“Oh my… such fiery rage.  How does that  _ feel _ , Isa?”

“It feels fantastic,” Isa spat, meeting Xehanort’s grin with a seething glare.  “Now, are you going to move, or am I going to have to get persuasive?”

“What makes you think Lea would even want to see you?  After everything you’ve done to him?”

Isa froze, stunned by the question.  He thought back to the last time he’d seen Lea.  After a long chase, he’d tracked the man down in the realm of darkness where he’d been hiding, waiting for an opportunity to lure Sora into his trap.

_ “I told you they’d make me come after you.” _

_ “Well, you found me.  So what are you gonna do?” _

_ “I’m ordered to either drag your ass back or eliminate you.  Sound familiar?” _

_ “And here I thought spending a little time in my shoes would soften you up a bit.” _

“Really think on it, Saïx.  You failed to protect him from the loss of his heart and deprived him of ten years of his life.  You pushed him away when he tried to get close to you. You ordered him to kill innocent people in cold blood, just to advance your position in the Organization.  You tried to have his best friends eliminated. You were  _ desperate  _ to hurt him.”

_ “Come home, Lea.  I can convince Xemnas to spare you any punishment.” _

_ “Maybe that’s not what I want.” _

_ “What are you saying?  You’d rather die than live without Roxas?” _

_ “I’m saying I’ll die to protect him.  Sound familiar?” _

There was a twinge in his chest.  Dull at first, but sharper with every biting word the child spoke.  It wasn’t true. None of it was true. He was just trying to break him.  Isa stood his ground, refusing to crumble. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

_ “I’m not going to stand here and let you commit suicide.” _

_ “You’re not going to stop me, either.” _

_ “What if he isn’t there, Lea?  You may never find him. You’d sacrifice yourself for nothing.” _

_ “Roxas isn’t nothing to me.  I thought you understood that.” _

“It’s no wonder he left,” the boy went on.  “He couldn’t get away from you fast enough. But that’s nothing new, is it?  You’re certainly no stranger to abandonment…”

Xehanort’s jeers lashed him like whips.  He steeled himself against every blow, yet the boy knew how to penetrate right through his guard and target his deepest weaknesses.  “That’s enough, Xehanort.”

“Aw, does that hurt?  What a shame. To finally get your heart back, only to have it broken.”

_ “Is there nothing I can say?” _

_ “There’s plenty of things you can say.  But you won’t change my mind.” _

_ “Lea… This isn’t over.” _

_ “Then I’ll be waiting for you.  Got it memorized?” _

Isa couldn’t listen anymore.  He covered his ears. The sound of the young Xehanort’s voice was deafening, pounding inside his head, repeating his words over and over.  The pain in his chest intensified and he doubled over. Lea had promised to wait for him. He wouldn’t have left him behind. Not again. Isa was sure of it.  This brat was in for a crushing disappointment.

“Look at that.  The sorrow. The anguish.  It must be exceedingly painful.  Perhaps things were better when you had no heart?”

How right he was.  Isa would have given anything to rid himself of the piercing agony he felt now.  Emotions flooded into him all at once, saturating him with pain and confusion. The rush was so forceful that he feared he would be sick.

“Don’t worry,” Xehanort patted him affectionately on the back.  “Your old friend has a lesson to learn about the consequences for treason.  We will ensure he receives the maximum punishment.”

“Lea is no threat to you,” Isa pleaded.  “Leave him alone.”

“He betrayed us.  Betrayed  _ you _ .  He would erase you without a second thought.”

Betrayed.  Isa remembered that emotion.  As if on cue, it surged to the surface and wore him down with its unrelenting grip.  He had felt betrayed when Lea left the Organization. He had felt betrayed when Lea allowed himself to be killed.  The man couldn’t be bothered to spare a single thought for Isa in either case. How could he walk away from his best friend so  _ easily? _   How could he hurt the man he was supposed to have loved more deeply than anyone?  And how could he do it over and over and feel no remorse?

Betrayed.  Isa had a vivid recollection of that pain, so intense that he hadn’t the clarity to be shocked or confused about it.  Now, there was no need to be -- he had a heart, and the pain he felt was real and strong and torturous.

Betrayed.  Perhaps Xehanort was right.  If Lea had walked away twice already, what would stop him from leaving a third time?

The young incarnation of Xehanort extended a hand, beckoning Isa to meet it with his own.  “Join me, Saïx. Regain your former glory. Claim that power which is yours.”

Isa backed away, bumping into Braig who restrained him by the shoulders.  “Come on, man, it won’t hurt! And you won’t have to feel all those icky emotions anymore.”

“Unhand me, Braig!”

“Come now, Saïx.  I can take that pain away.  You will be stronger without it.”

“I’m warning you, Xehanort!”

“Ah, what's this?  Another emotion?” Xehanort’s mouth twisted into a menacing smile.  “I see it in your eyes. My, my, how long has it been since you’ve felt such fear?”

In a blind rage, Isa shrugged out of Braig’s grasp and summoned his claymore, shocked to discover that he could still retrieve it.  He lunged at the boy with a powerful swing of his weapon, aiming to decapitate the little bastard and watch him bleed out on the sand.  Just as he was certain he’d landed his strike, a powerful shockwave of power emanated from the child’s form and knocked him to the ground.  Stunned, he could only lie there in a heap, watching as Xehanort closed in on him, casually brushing the sand off of his coat.

“That wasn’t smart, now, was it?  Did you really think you could overpower me?”

Isa recoiled in panic, trying to crawl away, but his path was blocked by his captors.  They leered down at him with sickening grins as they slowly approached his quaking form.  He was trapped. There was no way out. He could only cower beneath them and await the inevitable.  He had lost.

“Saïx.  No. VII.  You have been Chosen.  You are hereby reinstated as a member of the Real Organization XIII.  As a Seeker of Darkness, you will serve as a vessel for your Master’s essence.  The Seven and the Thirteen shall soon clash. The Second Keyblade War is at hand.”

The youth drew his keyblade and aimed it directly at Isa’s chest.  “I had so hoped that you would have come willingly.”

Isa had no more fight in him.  Without Lea, there was no sense resisting.  He stared at the keyblade in his face, feeling a brief glimpse of relief knowing that the pain would soon be gone.  He bowed his head in surrender, quietly accepting his defeat with what little dignity he had left. This was what he deserved.  This was where he belonged. Xehanort was the one man who hadn’t abandoned him.

“I pity you… Recusant.”

* * *

“You can do better than that, Isa!”

Aeleus was right.  Isa was hopelessly off his game, making mistakes he didn’t usually make, missing cues and flubbing his steps.  His heels were now only inches from the line, and Dilan wasn’t holding back as he advanced on his opponent. He was too heavy, too strong.  Isa tried to shift his weight and turn the match around, but it was hopeless. When his legs gave out, Dilan tossed him to the ground and he landed on his back with a painful thud.

“Begin again!”

The two fighters returned to their starting positions for the second round.  Isa crouched, ready to pounce as soon as he heard the whistle blow. When the battle began, he boldly lunged at his oversized adversary, taking him by surprise.  He clasped Dilan’s shoulders and coaxed him toward the edge of the ring with all of his strength. For a moment, it looked like he’d had him, and Isa enjoyed a new burst of adrenaline at having finally gained the upper hand.  Dilan soon regained his senses and threw Isa to the side, diving toward him to reclaim his lead. Isa quickly darted beneath his grasp and sidestepped around him, successfully dodging the attack. He rushed his foe from behind, hoping to stun him again and throw him out of the ring once and for all, but in his eagerness, he failed to properly stabilize himself first and landed off-balance.  Thanks to his mistake, Dilan easily overpowered him, sliding him back toward yet another defeat.

“Anticipate his movements!  You have agility on your side!”  Aeleus shouted authoritatively, circling the ring with his arms crossed and watching the match intently.  Isa managed another counter, parrying Dilan’s attack by springing to the side and upsetting the round once more.  He pinned Dilan’s wrists and poured his whole being into nudging him to the border inch by inch.

He nearly had him.  He was so close this time.  But, Dilan had somehow managed to wriggle out of his grip, easily subduing Isa with his superior strength and sending him flying out of the ring once more.  The whistle blew again as he hit the ground for the fifth time that afternoon, defeated.

“Alright, that’s enough!  Take a walk.”

For a moment, Isa considered just lying there in the grass, hiding his shame until his fellow trainees had all left.  If he couldn’t even win a simple wrestling match against Dilan, he’d never last in a  _ real  _ battle against  _ real  _ evil.  Xigbar was a scrawny man and Isa could handle him easily, but if he were still possessed by Xehanort, it was anyone’s guess what powers he had at his disposal.  Xehanort had been a frail old man, but nearly wrought an apocalypse on the entire realm of light. Radiant Garden needed disciplined soldiers on hand to protect the world’s inhabitants, and the realm of light needed the strongest guardians to protect the known universe.  Isa was neither soldier nor guardian, and he figured at this rate, he might never be.

Dilan was leaning over him, looking concerned.  “Decided to take a nap?”

Isa replied perfectly deadpan.  “Hot day. Cool grass.”

Dilan laughed and extended a hand, lifting Isa back to his feet with a smile.  Aeleus sauntered toward them, clapping Dilan on the back before sending him off.  He approached Isa, expressing his approval with a nod. “Good work, Isa.”

Isa sighed, rubbing his sore hip.  “Good work? I lost.”

“You lasted longer every time.  You’re improving.”

Stretching to relieve the aches in his tired muscles, Isa shook his head.  “Progress is quite slow.”

“Progress is progress.”

Isa was already too far gone in his own head to absorb Aeleus’s realism.  He was still weak. He’d been weak too many times. Everything that happened to him and Lea — becoming Xehanort’s test subjects, suffering from his experiments, losing their hearts, getting dragged into the Organization — all of it could be attributed to Isa’s weakness.  He wasn’t strong enough to resist the temptation of curiosity. The lust for power. He wasn’t strong enough to protect Lea. Even then, he chided himself for such foolish thoughts. He’d used those same arguments to justify his involvement in the Organization. Ultimately, his greatest weakness was the fear of being weak, and that vulnerability left him wide open for any enemy with a sliver of cunning and a propensity for emotional manipulation.  An enemy like Xehanort. An enemy like Xigbar.

“You are discouraged,” Aeleus observed with no change to his matter-of-fact tone.

Isa dropped his eyes.  “Just impatient.”

“What’s the hurry?”

When Isa hesitated, Aeleus gestured to the running track ahead of them.  Isa regretted that he had not spent enough time on this scenic path in his younger days.  The gardens were lush and vibrant, well on their way to their former magnificence from before Radiant Garden fell to darkness.  The fountain court had been mostly reconstructed, its resplendent falls cascading over stone ledges in perfect, reflective sheets.  The castle grounds were wide and clear, the grass having finally regrown to look fresh and healthy as it had in the past. Altogether, the trail spanned at least a mile, and not one inch of it was dull or tedious.

The two walked silently along the track for almost an entire lap before Isa decided to answer Aeleus’s question.  “I want to be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Just in case.”

At those words, Aeleus softened considerably, dropping his stony guard for the sake of his younger trainee.  “Isa, he’s not coming back.”

“I know that.”

“Then what are you preparing for?”

“Just—” Isa sighed, unsure how to articulate the particular anxiety he felt.  “Anyone could be Xehanort. The next Xehanort. It could happen all over again.”

“What makes you say that?”

A tense beat halted their conversation.  Isa averted his eyes, focusing instead on the gravel beneath his feet.  Aeleus’ voice prodded him, sounding almost sympathetic in how gently he spoke.  “You have dreams.”

Isa didn’t respond right away.  He hadn’t told anyone about the dreams involving Xigbar.  Not even Lea. He never mentioned those instances where he looked in the mirror and saw his former comrade standing directly behind him, only to turn around and find that he was alone.  Just the thought turned his stomach and his hands began to shake. “I really thought they’d have stopped by now.”

Aeleus grounded him with a hand laid firmly on his shoulder.  “Dilan would tell you that your dreams have some deeper spiritual relevance.  That they’re some sort of omen or prophecy,” he tightened his grasp as Isa finally met his eyes.  “I, on the other hand, think it best not to dwell on them. The mind can frighten you, and that is as far as its power can reach.”

They slowed their pace as they neared the training grounds, having completed the required loop around the running track.  Dilan was engaged in a friendly competition of strength with some other trainees, flexing and roughhousing with smiles on their faces.  Aeleus, shaking his head and almost chuckling at his friend’s naïveté, continued. “I, too, feel compelled to protect those that I care about.  But to waste my energy worrying does neither me, nor him any good.”

Isa tilted his head.  “Him?”

“Ienzo was never a fighter.  He would be defenseless.” Seeing Isa’s confused expression, he continued.  “You thought I was speaking of Dilan?” Aeleus smiled in the direction of his fellow guard.  “He can take care of himself. He doesn’t require my protection.”

Isa had forgotten how close a friendship Aeleus and Ienzo had shared.  He remembered in his early apprentice days how the two rarely spoke a word, yet seemed to understand each other perfectly.  He winced at the memory of Aeleus clutching the crying Ienzo tightly to his chest after Even was attacked. When he was finished with the scientist, Xehanort had turned his weapon on the boy, only for the oversized guard to fling himself between them, shielding the child from the keyblade pointed at his heart.  The sacrifice was futile — Aeleus went down first. Then, as he was weeping over the bodies of his loved ones, Ienzo lost his heart while his back was turned. Perhaps it was Xehanort’s only act of mercy to extract it from behind. That way, the boy didn’t have to watch.

Isa had made it his duty to prevent such detestable tragedies from ever recurring.  There could be no doubt that Xigbar was up to no good, but Isa questioned whether or not he was capable of similar acts of cruelty.  Xigbar reveled in chaos. He always seemed to take pleasure in catastrophe, but he was rarely one to dirty his hands. His role was always that of a casual observer to those who caused trouble, letting himself be entertained by the ensuing mayhem like a spectator at a sporting event.  It wasn’t his circus, but it was guaranteed that he’d always be seated in the front row. The man didn’t start fires, but he certainly enjoyed watching them burn.

“If Xigbar turns out to be the next Xehanort…” Isa whispered, more to himself than anyone else.  “If he comes back for me…”

Aeleus crossed his arms.  “He’ll have to get past us first.”

Upon seeing them approaching, Dilan and the other soldiers quickly wrapped up their horseplay, chortling quietly as they scattered.

“Aeleus!” Dilan boomed cheerfully.  “It’s too hot out here, let’s call it a day and go inside!”

“Hmph.  Alright, we’re finished for today,” Aeleus turned and addressed his trainees.  “Soldiers, we train again at dawn! I expect you all to be on time! Dismissed!”

At his final whistle blow, the soldiers took off in all different directions.  Dilan jogged over and offered a hand. “Good match, Isa. You’re getting better!”

“You too, Dilan,” Isa returned his handshake with a smile.  “One of these days, I’ll beat you.”

Dilan beamed with a competitive glint in his eye.  “I look forward to it!”

They bid their farewells and, with their arms around each other’s shoulders, Aeleus and Dilan casually strolled toward the castle gates.  Far be it from Isa to willingly bask in the sun’s unforgiving rays for even a second longer than necessity demanded, but it was too nice a day to remain cooped up in the castle.  He headed for the highest hill to be alone with his thoughts. His sore legs and the late summer heat made the climb a struggle, but he soon reached the top and collapsed on his back, closing his eyes.  He thanked the sky for providing at least a sparse collection of clouds here and there to protect his skin from the sun, even knowing full well that he would likely burn anyway.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he began to feel a presence in his midst.  He hadn’t heard anyone approaching, but he could sense that he was not alone. His eyes sprang open and he whipped his head around to confront his unannounced guest, ready to scold them for giving him a fright, but he soon relaxed, smiling when he found who had come to visit.

“Hey, you.  Glad you came back.”

The animal stood motionless for a moment, appearing to study him from a safe distance.  Isa stared back, questioning whether it was a good idea to lock eyes with the creature. He began to wonder if it recognized him, or if it was even the same wolf.  It had the same stunning blue eyes, the same silver fur with the dark gray patches along its back, and the same gentle expression on its face. It  _ had _ to be the same wolf.  How many tame wolves could there be in this one small forest?

After a few moments, it took a hesitant step, and then another, cautiously approaching him.  Its head bobbed rapidly with its sniffling as it meticulously scanned Isa’s entire body with its snout.  He laughed, flinching at the tickling sensation of its cold, damp nose on his skin.

“You know, I probably don’t smell very good.”

The animal took no notice of Isa’s sweaty clothes, seeming to be unbothered by his post-training scent.  When it was satisfied with its examination, it released a long exhale and sat beside him with an expectant look on its face.

“What is it you want?”

Its mouth opened into what almost seemed like a smile.  Its tongue was hanging over one side and Isa could feel the heat of its breath as it panted with anticipation.  It wagged its tail high in the air, lowering its front paws flat to the ground, appearing ready to pounce. When Isa didn’t respond right away, a bit wary of the sudden change in its mood, it began to dart from side to side, bouncing off the grass as if to beckon him.  It returned to its place, waiting for Isa to make his move, widening its captivating eyes and emitting a shrill whine.

“What, now you want to play?”

It pranced around in circles on the grass, hopping excitedly and yelping with increasing urgency until Isa finally relented, rising to his knees with a chuckle.  “Okay, okay.”

It had been years and years since he’d lost Gibbous.  He missed those sunny days he’d spent wrestling with his old friend, rolling about along the hills until they were both huffing from exhaustion.  He fondly remembered the nights where he would toss a stick into the distance and wait for his companion to bring it back. No matter how far he managed to fling the branch, Gibbous was always able to find it and return it, barking impatiently until Isa threw it again.  Now, as he playfully sparred with the mysterious wolf, he was thirteen again and Gibbous was here, his spirited growls a product of his competitive nature, but his touch harmless and gentle as it always was.

Back and forth, he and the wolf tangled themselves up, swiping and dodging until one of them had the other pinned.  Several rounds in, Isa lay defeated under the wolf’s paws, laughing as it ferociously licked his face.

“Alright!” he stammered his surrender between heavy breaths.  “You win!”

As soon as the wolf released him, he tackled it to the ground, attacking it with vigorous scratches on its belly.  It gleefully thrashed and writhed, kicking its hind legs and snarling with elation. When he was too tired to continue, Isa crawled away and plunked himself back onto the ground to rest.  The wolf followed and pawed at him until he continued scratching, and the pattern continued for several minutes.

“I can’t do this all day, my friend,” he giggled, raking his fingers through the animal’s soft fur.  The wolf finally settled down and was still, lying on its back with its mouth hanging open. Isa laid beside it, basking in the joy he felt there, visiting his happiest memories and spending time with a treasured reminder of an old friend.

He may or may not have dozed off -- he was not certain.  He was just beginning to wonder what time it was when the wolf rose to its feet, its stance alert and tense.

“What is it?” Isa sat up, following its eyes.  “Do you see something?”

He saw a figure in the distance, coming toward them.  It was a man, approaching at a casual pace, seemingly out for an evening stroll.  Isa soon recognized him and started lifting himself from the ground as the man came near, clearly intent on visiting with him.

“Master Ansem, sir—“

“There’s no need to get up,” he raised a hand.  “I’ll join you, if you’ll have me.”

Isa nodded.  “Of course, sir.”

While Master Ansem lowered onto the grass, Isa turned to where the wolf had been standing, only to find that it had vanished.  He scanned the field and the perimeter of the forest, but could not see the animal anywhere.

“Aeleus has informed me that your performance has been stellar in your training.  You’ll make a fine guard, Isa. I’m sure of it.”

Isa’s face began to flush.  “Thank you, sir.”

“You have a certain instinct which compels you to protect others.  That is the mark of a good soldier.”

“You flatter me, sir.”

“I speak the truth,” Master Ansem smiled warmly.  “But, I sense your trepidation.”

A pause followed his observation while Isa constructed an answer.  “I have been convinced to ally with a dark and powerful madman twice now.  I question my resolve, should I be tempted a third time.”

Ansem the wise hummed in thought.  He stroked his chin, ruffling his beard as he did so.  “Do you feel an impulse to commit crimes? Bathe yourself in darkness?  Elicit suffering and destruction?”

“No,” Isa shook his head.  “Not at all. I seek to prevent those atrocities.”

“Did you feel any dark and evil impulses during those first two times when you were ‘convinced’ to join the Organization?”

The sudden image of Lea, lying unconscious on the cold tile floor of Ansem’s lab, shot to the forefront of his mind.  He remembered that day so vividly. He remembered hovering over his friend’s motionless body, promising he would get their hearts back or die trying.  “No. The first time, I was protecting Lea. The second time…”

The scene changed.  He saw himself crouched in the sand at Xehanort’s feet, broken, waiting for the end to come.  “I froze. I just stood there.”

He took a shuddering breath, wringing his hands as the memory played out inside his head.  “I was kidnapped before I even woke up. I was backed into a corner. They told me I’d been abandoned and had nowhere else to go.  And I believed them…”

Isa’s voice began to shake as he recounted the tale.  “I tried not to listen. The emotions were rushing in and I tried to suppress them.  It was excruciating… I was so afraid…”

Every torturous word Xehanort’s young incarnation had said was now playing in Isa’s ears on an endless loop, louder with every echo.  “They whittled me down until I was drowning in despair. They brought me to where I would have given anything for that pain to stop. I wasn’t given another option.  I could only stand there like a coward, defeated, praying I’d find a way out while I stared down the Keyblade in my face…”

Ansem‘s eyes filled with sadness.  “It sounds to me, Isa, like you didn’t have much of a choice.  Nobody ‘convinced’ you of anything. They ‘commanded’ you to affiliate with them again.”  He gently set his hand on Isa’s back. “Both times you joined the Organization, you were protecting somebody.  That was all you ever wanted.”

To hear what he’d known all along reaffirmed by Master Ansem moved him deeply.  For so long Isa had blamed himself for going back to the Organization when he could have run, never having really come to terms with being kidnapped and forced to comply.  It was only now that he was able to acknowledge the heavy chains that were clasped around his feet, weighing him down while they showered him with pure anguish. While they tortured him.  He couldn’t have run if he’d tried. His eyes were welling up and he hastily dried the tears away before they had a chance to fall down his cheeks.

Ansem dropped his head.  “Ah, I am sorry. I’ve upset you.”

“No, sir, you haven’t… I was just…” he exhaled, searching for the nerve to confess.  “I was eventually so blinded by my rage and my lust for power that I wound up hurting the very people I was trying to protect.”

“You know,” the Master replied thoughtfully.  “This reminds me of a story my grandfather used to tell me.  It’s a story from a far away world and has been told in many different ways, but the message is the same.”

He cleared his throat, beginning with audible fondness for the tale in his voice.  “There were four divine spirits and a young imp living together in harmony. But one day, those spirits had to leave their friend behind, for they had been called to protect the world's inhabitants from danger as they divided themselves and spread across the land.

“Alone and afraid, the imp cried to himself in anguish.  Over time, his loneliness and heartache transformed into bitterness and rage.  He lashed out, overcome by anger and spite. In his weakness, he was taken in by a demon who filled him with the power of evil.  With his newfound dark magic, he wrought destruction over the land as far as he could reach. He summoned the moon itself from the sky and brought it crashing to the earth, hell bent on destroying the entire world.  The inhabitants, in their panic, erupted into chaos and war, even as the apocalypse was closing in on them.

“But soon, a young stranger roused the spirits with a magic spell, and they arrived to return the moon to the heavens where it belonged.  They freed the imp from his possession and banished the demon to another realm.

“The imp was filled with remorse, and he trudged back to his home in the forest, only to be stopped by his friends.  Though they chided their young companion for his foolishness, the four spirits assured him that they had not abandoned him and would never forget him.  They reminded him that they would always be friends, and they forgave him.

“The stranger, in his humbleness, was never seen or heard from again, but the citizens of that world told stories of his great deeds for many generations to come.  It is said that his soul has passed through many bodies, and continues to be reborn even to this day.

“There are many who claim that this hero often took the form of a wolf, you know.  It is said that by appearing as a beast, he could safely traverse the dark realms from whence the demon had come.  That way, he could maintain an eternal watch on the evil entity and ensure that it would not escape, thereby protecting the inhabitants of the world, just as a true hero should.”

Having finished his story, Ansem the Wise emitted a satisfied sigh.  “I’ve always loved a happy ending.”

Isa was speechless for a moment, only managing to stutter a response after a lengthy pause.  “That was a very… uplifting story. It hits eerily close to home…”

“Anger and resentment can turn a good man toward the darkness.  A broken heart can transform a naive child into a terrible monster.  Now, the child in the story invited a demon to possess him in a moment of weakness and vulnerability, but the only way for peace to be restored and the world to be saved from destruction was for those spirits to rescue that poor child from his bonds.  That imp was a victim, too, not a villain.” Ansem leaned in, making sure his point was clear. “Of course, he did not get off scot free. He still had to learn his lesson. He had to atone for his misdeeds and redeem himself for his friends. And in the end, he had to learn to live without them without being overcome by loneliness and rage.  But he was allowed his happy ending. Just as you deserve yours.”

Filled with gratitude, Isa nodded.  “Thank you, sir.”

“You know, we can all see the way you and Lea look at each other.  And quite frankly, we are on the edges of our seats.”

His breath caught at the Master’s words.  Isa wondered if he had misheard the man. “S-Sir?”

“You have every right to be happy, Isa,” Ansem spoke in a near whisper.  “Go and be happy. With him.”

Isa averted his eyes as heat rushed into his face.  “I’ll… take it under advisement, sir.”

“Although if I might make one recommendation…” the old man winked with a jolly but almost mischievous grin.  “Take a shower first.”

The Master began to laugh and Isa quickly joined him, apprehensive at first, growing more hearty the longer they went on.  Isa had spent many hours contemplating why he was so trepidatious about starting something with Lea. It wasn’t as simple as worrying about screwing it up, hurting Lea, getting hurt himself.  It was bigger than that, deeper than that. But for all his effort puzzling it out in his mind, searching for an answer that made sense to him, he came up empty-handed, no more enlightened than when he’d begun.  He couldn’t drag the man into anything if he couldn’t overcome that obstacle, whatever it was. Lea deserved better than that. Better than him.

Long after Ansem the Wise had left, Isa leaned back, gazing at the early evening sun.  He tried a new tactic.  _ Don’t think, just feel. _   He waited, listening.  Emotions flew by, one after another, circling around in an endless loop.  He acknowledged every one of them. He let them say their piece, giving them the time they needed to run their course before releasing him and fading away.  It was intense, even frightening. But it was  _ good _ .  Master Ansem was right.  When Isa needed someone, Lea was always there.  He would listen. He would understand. And just like he always did, he would show him compassion and support and patience.  He was everything a best friend ought to be.

It was decided.  Isa would go and be happy.  With Lea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was nervous about this chapter, so let me know what you think! I hope you like it! If you feel so inclined, let me know what you think about where this is going and where you would like to see it going next! Thanks always for the comments and kudos!


	20. Parallels

“Hey, Olette.  I was hoping you could zip this for me.”

Xion had been contorting her body in all different directions trying to pull the zipper up herself.  No matter how she bent and twisted, she simply couldn’t reach it, and she began to wonder why anyone would wear something that required a second person to put it on for them.  But she wouldn’t complain. Olette had taken her shopping the day before and picked out the dress for this exact occasion, and Xion could at least admit that it looked nice on her and was comfortable.  It was refreshing to wear clothing that was breathable and colorful for once, and somewhat exciting to find that she  _ liked _ the garment.  She discovered that people dressed differently for so many reasons — their personality, their mood, where they would go and who they would see — and she often struggled with choosing what she should wear every morning.  Olette would ask her what she  _ felt  _ like wearing, and she almost never had an answer.  The very concept of having a choice was so foreign to her.  In the Organization, all she ever wore was that coat, and as much as she hated the stiff, muggy leather, at least its zipper was on the front.

When minutes passed and she hadn’t made any progress, she gave up and approached the vanity where Olette was leaning with her nose less than an inch from the mirror, staring in deep concentration at her own face.

“What?” she whipped her head around, looking flustered and slightly embarrassed. “Oh, of course.”

She closed the zipper and immediately returned to the mirror, drawing lines and blotting colors all over her skin.  On the table lay a disorderly mess of brushes, powders, creams, and a host of scary-looking tools Xion had never seen.  It seemed that there was a different contraption to use for every feature a person had, and Olette had been frantically cycling through each one for over an hour.

“Thanks,” Xion said, peering at the collection of instruments on the vanity.  “How come you’re putting all that makeup on?”

Olette’s shoulders sank, crestfallen.  “You think it’s too much?”

Xion winced, hoping she hadn’t hurt Olette’s feelings.  Her eyes were lined with harsh, black paint, and her eyelids had been coated in a dark blue substance.  Her cheeks were a deep shade of magenta, and her lips were as bright red as Axel’s hair. She was almost unrecognizable.  “Well it’s…” she paused, searching for the right words. “It’s a lot. More than you usually wear.”

With a heavy sigh, Olette slumped over the table with her head in her hands.  “Ugh, you’re right. I look like a clown.”

_ Crap, I said the wrong thing.   _ “I didn’t mean that,” Xion assured her, desperate to remedy the situation while there was still time.  “I just think you look perfectly nice without it.”

Olette looked into the mirror, taking some time to reexamine her appearance.  Defeated, she reached for a small rag and a bottle of clear solution. “You’re right.  This isn’t me. I’ll wipe it off.”

She went to work, dragging the cloth over her skin, easily removing all the color she’d spent so long meticulously applying.  Eventually, she looked like her old self again, and no less lovely than she always was. Curious, Xion glanced into the mirror at her own face.  She hadn’t mastered putting on makeup yet. Olette usually did it for her, and although Xion liked how it made her look, all that paint and powder was itchy and uncomfortable.  She usually went without it, having not put much thought into decorating herself for no reason. But tonight, as she sized up her reflection, particularly while standing beside someone as beautiful as Olette, she noticed just how plain she looked, and wondered if she ought to put some of that makeup on herself.

“You okay?” Olette asked, tilting her head with concern in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Xion shrugged, mindlessly fiddling with a decorative button on the front of her dress.  “I guess I’m just nervous.”

Her friend smiled, turning away from the vanity to give Xion her full attention.  “You sure you don’t want to bring the  _ Complete Works _ with you?”

Xion shook her head, smirking.  “I’d look silly. I’ll be fine.”

The longer she watched herself in the mirror, the more flaws she found.  The stray hairs on her head that lay curled against the rest, the unsightly blemishes on her forehead that would come and go at random, her thin, pale lips, her skinny and unshapely figure — it all seemed to amplify every second.  She had to force herself to turn around, shuffling toward the closet to dig out her shoes. The most puzzling of all these thoughts and observations was the fact that she cared at all. None of it mattered when she was in the Organization.  When she was just a replica. It perplexed her that she had suddenly come to dislike her appearance and wish that she were more beautiful, like Olette. She’d never felt so self-conscious before.

As she slipped into her shoes, making a few final adjustments to her dress, she thought of Roxas.  He never agonized over his face and hair. He didn’t worry about his attire. He seemed perfectly comfortable in his own skin.  But then again, Roxas was attractive — he had no reason to stress over how he looked. His blond hair always had a soft, windswept look to it.  It never seemed disheveled or messy, not a single strand out of place. When he smiled, there was a sort of sparkle in his eye that had always captivated Xion, but she didn’t know why.  She figured she should compliment him sometime. He was a very handsome guy, and his self-confidence was well-deserved. But every time she tried to tell him so, her throat seized up and her mouth became dry.  For a brief moment, as she stole one last glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she wondered if Roxas thought she was pretty.

“What are you thinking about?  You look like you’re doing advanced calculus in your head.”

“Um,” Xion stammered, rushing to come up with an answer.  “I was thinking about, uh… Isa. I was thinking about how he’ll be there with us.”

Olette touched her shoulder, smiling warmly.  “Pence and I will be right next to you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I know.  It’s not that I’m afraid.  It’s just…” she paused to organize her thoughts.  “We haven’t talked since that day. I’m not sure where we stand.”

When Olette invited her to watch a local troupe performing one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, Xion’s first instinct was to stay home.  The thought of being around so many people made her sick to her stomach. She was so  _ awkward  _ in public.  Crowds made her feel overwhelmed and drained.  But Olette was so excited that she couldn’t refuse.  On that same day, Roxas received an urgent call from Axel, telling them to pack their bags because they were all going Radiant Garden for an important mission.  Roxas convinced him to stay for a visit, suggesting that he bring his friends. Three attendees quickly became five, and Xion’s skin began to crawl when she heard that Isa would be one of them.

“That’s okay,” Olette gently squeezed her arm.  “It doesn’t have to be crystal clear. For now, just be two people going to see a Shakespeare play together.”

It was still baffling to Xion how Olette seemed to always know exactly what to say to make her feel better.  It was as if the girl could crawl inside her mind, find the malfunction that made her feel so anxious, and repair it in seconds.  Still nervous, but slightly more at ease, Xion let out a long exhale of relief. “Thanks, Olette. I’m really looking forward to it.”

Xion took several more breaths before finally heading into the hallway where she immediately encountered Roxas — by nearly bumping into him.

“Sorry, I was just—” Roxas cut off with a gasp, staring at her with wide eyes.  “Wow, Xion…” he gulped, scratching his head and fidgeting in place. “You look… uh… nice dress.”

_ Plain, awkward  _ and  _ clumsy.   _ Xion stood rigid as stone.  Something was drumming in her chest, so forcefully that it knocked the wind out of her.  She blushed, dropping her eyes to the floor. “Thanks, Roxas. Uh… sorry for almost knocking you over.  I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Oh, um…” he cleared his throat.  “It was my fault, I wasn’t looking either.”

There was a gap in the conversation, and it seemed that both were unequipped to fill it.  Xion’s face was starting to feel uncomfortably hot. The longer they stood there, both wanting to say something but lacking the nerve to open their mouths, the faster her heart would beat.  She wasn’t breathing. She’d suddenly forgotten how. Her hands were shaking. She wanted to look at him. She wanted to see his stunning face again. All she had to do was lift her head, but she was completely paralyzed.

The awkward silence was thankfully broken when Olette came through the doorway.  “Oh, hey, Roxas,” she said before tilting her head and sniffling. “Is something burning?”

Roxas sheepishly avoided her eyes.  “Uh, right… Hayner was making popcorn…”

“How do you mess that up?”

“He was doing it on the stove.  I was about to go and—”

“Seriously?” Olette sighed, muttering to herself as she hurried toward the kitchen.  “That boy is going to burn the house down, I swear…”

Xion hadn’t moved a muscle since coming into the hallway.  Roxas was grimacing at the sound of Olette scolding Hayner from the kitchen.  They were stuck in yet another tense pause. Just when she was planning to take off running, Roxas turned back to her, smiling nervously.

“You, uh… you really look great, Xion.”

She gasped softly.  He complimented her.  Not just her dress, but  _ her. _   He said she  _ looks great.   _ She hoped he couldn’t hear the deafening sound of panicked screaming inside her head.  “Thank you…” she murmured. “Olette picked this out. It’s supposed to be really exciting because it has pockets.”

“That’s cool,” Roxas commented before raising an eyebrow with a questioning look.  “Do they not normally have them?”

“I guess they don’t,” she shrugged.  “Kind of dumb…”

She grasped at the empty void, begging the universe to send her some words to say.  Something meaningful. Something that would interest him.  _ Anything. _   She needed a smooth segue into a real conversation.  Or an escape. Either one would be preferable to standing so close to him, unable to impress him with knowledge, entertain him with humor, or delight him with charm.  Her eyes darted around, avoiding his, searching for a way out of the awkwardness.  _ This is ridiculous,  _ she thought to herself. __ Roxas was her  _ best friend,  _ and now she choked on every word to him.  She’d never been this shy around him before, and was entirely clueless as to what had changed.  When her gaze fell back on him, she could have sworn he’d stepped a bit closer. At least an inch or so.  Perhaps she’d imagined it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” she asked in a voice so meek that she hardly recognized it as her own.

“I’d be lost the whole time,” he chuckled, shaking his head.  “But don’t worry, we’ll be here when you get back.”

Her bones were starting to vibrate, like an electric current were surging through them.  He was standing too close to her now. Close enough that she could see the hairs on his chin.  Close enough that she could smell his minty breath. But she didn’t back away. She froze in place, just staring, waiting to see what he would do.  Something brushed her hand. She looked down, her throat clenching, and shuddered at the unexpected warmth of his fingers linking between hers. The heat rushed across her skin, radiating all the way to her face.  Still speechless, she saw that his cheeks were flushed too. He was looking right into her eyes. She’d never seen him make that expression before. She began to panic. Was he waiting for her to do something? What should she do now?  His fingers found confidence and tightened their grasp. He smiled.  _ Thank goodness.   _ Maybe she didn’t have to do anything.  He seemed happy enough. She certainly was.  At least, she was pretty sure that’s what she was feeling.  So happy she could throw up.

Their little moment, however long it might have been, was cut short by the sound of a doorbell.  Reluctantly, their hands parted and they both fidgeted, trying to recover from the experience before having to face their friends.

Glancing toward the door almost sadly, Roxas sighed.  “That’s them.”

Xion nodded.  “We’d better go.”

Roxas led the way as they barreled into the kitchen to greet their guests.  Axel was the first to burst through the door, arms wide as if expecting the hosts to drop everything and dive into his embrace immediately.  Following closely behind him were Isa, Demyx, and Luxord, cautiously stepping inside as their curious eyes wandered around the room.

Roxas bolted toward his friend with Xion hot on his heels.  “Axel!”

“Roxas!” Axel lifted both of them into a tight bear hug, glancing toward the stove where Olette was cleaning up the mess left from Hayner’s failed attempt at making popcorn.  “You kids couldn’t wait until I got here before you started setting things on fire?”

“ _ Okay,  _ I get it!” Hayner shouted defiantly from the sofa.  “I’ll go take one of those cooking classes at the bistro!  Ya happy?”

After squeezing them so hard they couldn’t breathe, Axel finally let go and stepped aside to let the rest into the room.  Demyx and Luxord, acting uncharacteristically shy, stood back in the corner and out of the way. While Axel was making introductions with Isa and Olette, Roxas approached the new guests, throwing his arms tightly around Demyx’s shoulders.

“Demyx!” He broke away and held him at arm’s length to examine him.  “You look great!”

“What’s up, Roxas?” Demyx giggled, playfully ruffling his hair and eyeing him from top to bottom.  “You don’t look half bad yourself! Are you taller?”

“Oh my gosh, I thought I was shrinking,” Axel turned and put a hand to his chest, looking relieved.  “Thank goodness it’s not just me.”

While Roxas was hugging Luxord, Hayner leaned over the back of the couch, holding several video game controllers and grabbing their attention with a loud clearing of his throat.  “Alright, ladies, we’re gonna start with a Klash tournament. Whoever loses has to play as the Meow-wow in the next round.”

“I call the Ryu Dragon!”  Roxas responded quickly, taking Demyx by the arm and leading him to the living room to introduce the two.

The three of them disappeared behind the sofa and Axel shook his head, chuckling.  “What have I gotten myself into?”

Isa smirked, laying a hand on his shoulder.  “Deepest sympathies, my friend.”

Through the entire greeting, Xion had stood back, motionless as she watched the exchange of hugs and handshakes and wide smiles.  Something about having so many people visiting gave her an odd feeling in her chest. Especially so with Luxord and Isa. She hadn’t seen Luxord since the Organization.  He looked quite strange in plain clothes, and she was surprised to see just how muscular a build he’d been hiding under the coat for so long. In contrast, Demyx appeared quite thin, practically swimming in his faded T-shirt.  Isa was quiet as usual, but his stance was much more open than when she’d last seen him. He leaned against the counter very casually, listening as Axel and Olette babbled at each other.

The air felt far less tense once Roxas had dragged Demyx and Luxord out of the room.  Just as Xion was beginning to feel somewhat comfortable, Isa caught her eye and began his approach.  Her body seized up and she frantically racked her brain for the proper words to use in a greeting, small talk, catching up, every conversation she might have to prepare for in the few seconds it would take him to reach her position.  Thankfully, he stopped a few feet from her, though whether he was keeping his distance for her sake or his own was unclear. “It’s good to see you, Xion.”

It was so weird to see him smile.  He seemed apprehensive, standing a bit more stiffly with his hands in his pockets.  It was still very jarring to remember that he sought her approval now instead of the other way around as it had always been.

“You too, Isa,” she replied politely.  “It’s nice that you have time to visit.”

They were saved by Olette’s call from the kitchen.  “Okay, are we ready to go?”

“Where’s Pence?” Xion glanced around, searching for the roommate who was meant to join them.

“Right here, sorry,” Pence had entered the room wearing a classy ensemble of a dark vest and tie, surprising everyone with his well-dressed appearance.  Even his hair had been tamed with gel and Xion could smell the cologne he wore from several feet away.

Olette was stepping toward him with her jittering fingers clasped behind her back, smiling as she took in his new outfit.  “You look nice.”

He began to blush a deep red, shuffling in place and avoiding her eyes.  “Oh, uh… this old thing? Th-Thanks…”

She grinned again before turning to the rest.  “Let’s go before we’re late!”

Axel gripped Isa’s shoulder as he sent him off with a cheery nod.  Luxord was bidding his farewells to Demyx as he came in from the living room.  Olette and Pence seemed frozen for a moment, staring just a little too long at each other before heading toward the front door.  Xion brought up the rear and soon all five of them were outside and making their way for the sandlot.

While Isa chatted with Luxord and Olette shared Shakespearean jargon with Pence, Xion was alone with her thoughts, walking a few paces behind the group.  She couldn’t think about the play. She couldn’t think about how nervous she was to be around Isa. She could only think of Roxas. She wanted so much for him to be present.  Not to protect her from her own anxiety or act as a liaison between her and the rest, but to just  _ be  _ with her.  Just to enjoy the show together.  She remembered how nice it was to watch movies with him on the sofa.  Even if the films were terrible, those nights were some of the best she’d ever had.

Her mind wandered until it settled on the memory of curling up to him in the middle of the night, icing her freshly-sliced wrist while an obnoxious musical played on the television at an almost inaudible volume.  Shaken by her experience with the tea, she cried the whole time, and Roxas never said a word, not once trying to stop her or interrupt. He just sat there quietly with his arm around her and let her have her breakdown where no one else could see it.  When it came to her privacy, or preserving any reputation she may have had for strength of character and emotional balance, Roxas didn’t count. Roxas was allowed to see her be vulnerable, scared, confused and upset. He didn’t judge her and he never seemed uncomfortable or out of his element.  She was lucky to have such a good friend in him.

She wasn’t sure if perhaps it was the heat or the nerves or the memories, but without warning, the ground began to tip beneath her feet, as if she were walking on the deck of a ship in turbulent waters.  The world was not so much spinning as it was tossing from side to side, and the vertigo was making her head hurt. Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the ground. Dark spots flashed in and out of her vision, and she had to close her eyes to keep the motion-sickness at bay.

“Xion!”

She could hear footsteps rushing toward her and people calling her name.  Someone had a hand on her back. She opened her eyes and watched as the stones beneath her gradually stopped bubbling and rolling.  Soon, the ground was still, and she could feel everyone standing around her, including a handful of strangers, their eyes glued to her.  She began to shake, covering her head and praying they would all leave.

“Xion, are you alright?”

It was Isa’s voice.  He was kneeling in front of her.  She finally lifted her head as her vision cleared, and she was very aware of the embarrassment she felt at having caused a scene.  He was so close to her, looking genuinely worried. Pence and Olette were waving the crowd away. She wished she could turn invisible and slink into the shadows, letting them all believe they’d simply hallucinated this random girl’s fainting spell and then go on about their business.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, dropping her head again.  “I just got dizzy, is all… I’m okay.”

Olette sank to her knees in a hurry, rattling off a series of questions.  “Xion! Are you okay? What happened? Are you sick? When was the last time you ate something?”

“I’m fine, Olette.  I ate, uh… um…”

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, laying the back of her hand on her forehead.  “I’ll buy you a snack when we get there. You’ll feel better.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Xion insisted.  “Really, I’ll be fine.”

“Xion, people who are fine don’t collapse out of the blue like that.  I’m worried about you—“

“I’m fine, Olette!  Please!” she snapped, weary of the incessant badgering.  Regret set in immediately and she reached for her friend, gently squeezing her hand.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Her words trailed off when her voice broke, and Isa turned to Olette and the others.  “It’s alright, I have her. You go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Olette gulped, her worried expression not relaxing even a little.  “O-Okay. We’ll save seats for you.”

Luxord rounded them up and they took off, leaving Xion and Isa alone on the ground together.  She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye as she spoke to him. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I know.”

“You’ll miss the beginning of the play.”

“Take your time.  I’m in no hurry.”

He was much more patient than she would have expected.  He knelt there in silence, waiting for her to be ready. He didn’t rush her or coddle her.  He didn’t even stare. He just sat calmly, never having moved his hand from her back. Just like Roxas had done for her that night after her episode in the kitchen.  A familiar warmth flooded her when she came to realize that Isa shared a trait with Roxas, and that trait was  _ compassion. _

For a while, she wondered if she ought to say anything.  Perhaps she ought to thank him for sitting with her. Maybe ask him to take her home so she wouldn’t have to face her friends after what happened.  She thought about whether or not she wanted him to talk to her. A small part of her wanted to hear that there wasn’t anything wrong with her, that she wasn’t a bother, that people didn’t hang around her out of pity or sympathy rather than actual enjoyment of her company.  She wanted to know that she was doing humanity  _ right. _   The only evidence she could find seemed to tell her that she was indeed a failed person, just as she had been a failed puppet.

In her frustration, she began to cry, and she felt Isa’s body stiffen beside her.  She wished she could think of something to say that wasn’t just a basic observation of her own feelings.  She wanted to have intelligent thoughts, eloquent thoughts, but all she had were instincts and simple human emotions.  She cursed her weakness and dragged her wrist across her face, refusing to blubber like a child over a mere fainting spell, especially in front of Isa.  When she was certain that she wouldn’t fall again and she wouldn’t be sick, she clasped his arm and tried to lift herself off the ground.

“Easy,” he insisted, eyeing her tensely.  “Do you want to get up?”

“Yes…”

“Alright,” he nodded.  “Slowly.”

He supported her by the elbows as she rose to her feet.  Her legs wavered a bit at first but quickly regained their strength as she took a few steps.  He remained near, prepared to catch her if she went down again, but thankfully he wasn’t needed.

“Thank you…” she muttered in a subdued voice.  “I feel a lot better.”

He smiled.  “That’s good.  If you’re ready, we can go and join the others.  The performance hasn’t started yet.”

As soon as they entered the sandlot, Olette waved them over to their seats at the far end of the arena.  As soon as they sat down, she shoved an armful of snacks into Xion’s lap. Reluctantly, she nibbled on a pretzel if only to get her friend’s piercing eyes off of her.

The play was an interesting mix of tragedy, comedy, drama, and romance.  There were funny moments that elicited laughter from the crowd. There were intense action scenes that pulled the audience to the edge of their seats.  There were sorrowful moments that tugged at their heartstrings. During a particularly poignant scene, Xion could hear Olette sniffling next to her, dabbing her face with a tissue.  Before she could react, an arm slipped around the girl’s shoulders and she gasped with surprise. Xion could hardly believe it when she discovered that the arm belonged to Pence. He and Olette locked eyes for just a brief moment and their cheeks began to flush yet again.  Smiling, she scooted closer to him, wiping her eyes as she returned her attention to the play.

By the time the performance had ended, it had gotten dark outside.  After a hearty round of applause and a standing ovation, the audience filed out of their seats and crowded the stage to greet the actors.  Pence and Olette had wandered off, holding hands and in deep conversation. Luxord said his goodbyes and headed back for the apartment. Isa and Xion remained in their seats, admiring the scenery and reflecting.  They sat in silence until the sandlot had nearly emptied, watching the last few patrons strolling out into the street and the crew members striking the set.

Isa finally turned to Xion, opening a friendly dialogue.  “Did you like the play?”

She nodded.  “I did. It was kind of hard to follow sometimes, but I got the idea.  I’m glad it had a happy ending.”

“ _ Winter’s Tale _ has always been one of my favorites.  It can get rather dark, but it’s a refreshing change to see things work out well in the end,” he agreed.  “Shakespeare’s tragedies usually end… well, in tragedy.”

“I wonder why,” Xion questioned.  “Why would people want to watch a play that isn’t uplifting?  It would just make them leave feeling sad, I should think…”

Isa shrugged.  “Perhaps. But it can be cathartic.  It reminds us to appreciate the times when we do feel happy.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

They observed for a while longer as the stage hands took down the lights and packed away the props.  Overhead, Isa caught a glimpse of the moon. Only a thin sliver was visible, but it still glowed brightly among the stars.  Streetlights had been lit, shops were closing and townsfolk were turning in for the evening. Beside him, he found Xion staring just as intently at the sky, her wide eyes deeply focused on the moon above them.  He was loath to break her concentration, but conceded that the others at the apartment would likely begin to wonder where they were if they stayed much longer. “Should we go back?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, her gaze still fixed on the moon.  “It’s pretty dark.”

He stood and offered her a hand, pulling her gently to her feet before leading the way out of the arena.  They paced leisurely down a side street, glancing at the colorful signs and posters plastered along the brick walls.  Some were job postings, others were advertisements for the nearby shops, still others were flyers for the Shakespeare troupe’s performances.  As they rounded a corner, Xion spoke up again, sounding perplexed but curious. “I can’t understand how Leontes could all of a sudden throw his own wife in prison and abandon his child like that.  It seems like it came out of nowhere.”

Isa was silent at first, pondering her question and carefully plotting out his answer.  He remembered quite well the scene where the king had rebuked his pregnant wife, convinced that she’d been unfaithful to him when he observed her cordial interactions with his friend.  The actor conveyed the seething rage so perfectly that Isa’s skin crawled as he watched. The woman cast as Hermione cried real tears as she played the part of a distraught, heartbroken wife and mother.  Isa could see the practiced look of confusion in her eyes as her husband had her arrested and dragged offstage to be imprisoned. His heart ached for the characters in a way that it never had before. He’d seen several performances and read the text a dozen times over, but not once did it ever evoke such a strong emotional response in him.

“Jealousy,” he breathed.   _ “Can _ come out of nowhere.”

“But Hermione didn’t do anything wrong.  She was just being polite and friendly. And the baby was completely innocent.”

“Leontes was delusional,” Isa explained.  “When one is so blinded by anger and insecurity, they see what they want to see.”

She furrowed her brow.  “So you can lose your grasp of reality if your emotions are powerful enough?”

“Yes,” he averted his eyes as he spoke, lowering his voice as if he were ashamed of the answer.  “Under the right circumstances… a good man can turn into a monster.”

Xion didn’t say anything for several minutes after that.  They meandered down the footpath without a word until they reached an intersection with a small plaza.  The area was typically filled with carts and kiosks and with one corner dominated entirely by a large farmer’s market.  It was slightly eerie to see the place so dark and empty. Everything was still and quiet, in sharp contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of shoppers and the enthusiastic songs of merchants eager to sell their wares.  Isa was so engrossed in his contemplation of the play that he almost didn’t notice that Xion’s pace had slowed considerably, and she stared down at her feet as she trudged along with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her dress.

“Xion,” he called to her.  “Something troubles you.”

“It’s nothing.”

He skeptically raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.  “Your words say it is nothing. Your face tells me otherwise.”

When she didn’t respond, he gestured toward a nearby bench beneath a street lamp.  “Come, sit down.”

She reluctantly followed and slumped onto the painted wood, still staring at the ground.  Isa waited patiently for her to speak, sitting quietly beside her and allowing her time to collect her thoughts.  When the silence had gone on for too long, she inhaled deeply and began. “When I realized that I was the reason Roxas was weakening… I felt awful.  He’s my best friend and I was slowly destroying him. Just by existing. Just by being around him.”

Isa cringed, remembering clearly those mornings where Roxas had come to the Grey Area looking sickly and weak.  He never complained as he was sent on his missions anyway, and upon his return, he collapsed numerous times, only to refuse any help afterward.  It was such a cruel end, letting the boy die so slowly, and the memory alone turned Isa’s stomach.

Xion pulled up her knees, hugging them to her chest as she whispered her confession.  “In the end… he disappeared because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

She let out a long exhale before continuing her explanation.  “I knew that I was draining him. I knew that only one of us would get to live.  The only way to save him was to die, so I sacrificed myself,” she grimaced. “You might think that sounds noble or selfless.  You’re wrong. DiZ and Namine needed Roxas to merge with Sora in order to revive him. Riku kidnapped him so they could take the memories back from him.”

She swallowed hard and took another breath.  “I am the one who led him into their trap.”

Isa could hear the remorse in her voice as she recited her story.  She was rubbing her forehead with a pained expression on her face. Her eyes welled up and her words developed a teary quiver.  “I guess I got what I deserved after a betrayal like that. I was erased. Not just from existence, but from people’s memories. From history itself.”

The tension in the air had risen.  She began to tremble, clenching the hem of her dress in her fists and fighting off the obvious waver in her speech.  “Roxas was his own person. He deserved to live, just like Sora did. He had a right to live. But all along, I was just a puppet.  I wasn’t a real person. I wasn’t even half a person. I was… I was angry. I was angry that I would never be a whole, unique being like Roxas was.  And in the end I left him with no choice but to disappear just like I did.”

She closed her eyes, making no effort to intercept the tears that fell down her cheeks.  “I guess… in a way, I was jealous, too.”

Isa was stunned by the revelation that someone who had been a victim of such cruel circumstances would find room in her heart for guilt.  “Xion,” he clasped her arm gently. “You did nothing wrong.”

“How can you say that?  Of course I did!”

He shook his head.  “I don’t think there was ever a right answer in that situation.  Every option would have led to tragedy for somebody. Your hands were tied, and you were presented with a profoundly difficult and agonizing decision you should never have had to make.”

After a long stare, she dropped her head.  “So… I was already trapped, then. From the moment I was born.”

“Yes.  And it wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.  “No matter what you might think, or how it may feel, it wasn’t your fault.”

She thought back to the play.  In his remorse after his wife’s death, King Leontes mourned at her grave every day for sixteen straight years.  The magnitude of his guilt resonated deeply with her, and she lamented that she had no opportunity to perform a similar ritual of atonement for such a grievous sin.  No matter what excuse she might have come up with, no matter what reasoning she employed, she had still deceived Roxas. She had still sent her best friend to his own demise, temporary as it may have been.  She questioned how he could ever forgive her for such a transgression.

Sighing, she rose from the bench and ambled a few steps away, grateful that Isa wasn’t following her.  She needed the space to think. In the glow of the moon, she saw her shadow, stretched far across the ground in front of her, as if she were ten feet tall.  She glanced up toward the sky, admiring the moon’s shape, likening the image to a wide, gleaming smile. Like Roxas’ smile, she thought to herself. Shining brightly, lighting up the world around it, cheerful and winsome as it always was.

She wandered by a storefront with a large window along the side wall, nearly crashing into it as she absentmindedly gazed at the heavens.  She paused, peering into the reflective glass. She saw herself just as she had looked earlier that day. Plain. Awkward. Clumsy. Disgusted, she was about to turn away when something caught her attention.  It happened so quickly that she thought she’d imagined it. That glare in her eyes. Perhaps it was a trick of the streetlights behind her, fooling her with their warped reflections. She blinked. Her mirror image was perfectly normal.  Every feature was accounted for and with no visible abnormalities. She closed her eyes and sighed with relief. When she opened them, it was back.

She screamed, backing away from the window and staring directly into her own pale yellow eyes.  Unable to look away, she watched in horror as her shape changed into a menacing, beastly version of herself.  She could hear Isa calling her name. She heard his footsteps as he came toward her. There was a heavy weight pressing on her chest and a forceful grip around her throat.  A hand on her shoulder snapped her from the trance and she covered her face to block out the image, shaking and wheezing violently.

“Xion,” Isa drew her away from the window.  “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I saw… I saw…!”

“What did you see?”

“It hurts… I can’t breathe…”

She was hyperventilating, whimpering on every exhale.  Isa peeked behind her at the window and saw nothing, perplexed by her reaction.  She grew more agitated as the seconds passed and he became flustered, unsure what he should do.  Should he interfere and attempt to console her? Should he stand back and let it run its course? When she lowered her hands, wincing and clutching her chest, he swore that he saw something peculiar in her expression.  Something had flashed so rapidly across her face that he wasn’t entirely certain what it was.

“You’re panicking,” he softened his tone to a near whisper.  “Try to relax. Whatever you saw is gone now.”

“I really can’t breathe…”

For the moment, neither could Isa.  “That is what panic feels like. You may think that you can’t breathe, but you can.”

She shouted frantically as if she hadn’t heard him.  “That wasn’t me… tell me that wasn’t me!”

“Breathe, Xion.”

“I can’t!” her body began to writhe and convulse.  “Something is choking me!”

Isa took hold of her shoulders.  “Nothing is choking you. It’s alright—“

“Let go of me!”

“You’re going to hurt yourself.  I need you to take a deep breath.”

It happened again.  Her eyes sparked a second time, glowing for longer than they had before.  Her hair was shifting, as if a breeze were blowing it about, leaving it looking rather unkempt.  A dark aura formed around her body. He froze, gaping at her. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.  He must have been hallucinating. Xion bared her teeth, growling and displaying a set of sharp fangs she didn’t previously have.  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She thrashed again, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, roaring incoherently.

“Xion, stay with me,” Isa spoke in an urgent, almost pleading voice as he restrained her tightly.  “Remember where you are.”

_ “They’re here… They’re here!” _

“No one else is here, Xion.  It’s me. It’s Isa.”

Before he could react, she wrestled away from him and summoned her keyblade.  She lunged, preparing for an overhead swing aimed right at his head. “ _ Moon, shine down!” _

“Xion!  Stop! Look at me!”  He blocked her attack, clasping the keyblade in his hand and bringing her to a halt.  Her tiny frame heaved with her beastly wheezing, but she didn’t struggle. When he was convinced it would be safe to relax his grip, he took her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks and leaning close.  “Lock eyes with me and don’t look away.”

It was several seconds before she complied.  The quaking in her body was slowing and her heavy breaths were leveling off.  Her appearance was returning to normal and she was finally beginning to settle down.  Satisfied that he’d gained control of the situation, Isa continued with his stern instructions.  “Sheathe your weapon.”

Her face had an almost blank stare as she dismissed her keyblade and it blinked out of sight.  Isa nodded approvingly. “Take a deep breath.”

Her body expanded, lifting her shoulders and straightening her spine as she obeyed his command.

“Again.”

When she had completed her second exhale, he released his hold on her.  “That’s good. Now, look around you. Tell me where you are.”

She scanned the area.  “Twilight Town… the Sandlot…”

“Good.  Do you remember why we are here?”

“We…” she hesitated, her face twisted in concentration.  “We came to see a play…”

“What happened after the play?”

“I…” she prodded at her temples.  “I don’t remember…”

Her head was aching terribly and she was slightly dizzy and disoriented.  She rewound through the events in her mind. She remembered the play. Olette and Pence.  Thunderous applause. The moon. Talking about Roxas… then, nothing. Isa was silent, avoiding eye contact as she racked her brain for any memory of what had happened.  He looked concerned. Disturbed, even.

“What?” she asked, raising the pitch in her voice.  “What is it?”

“You had a panic attack,” he muttered, unwilling to face her.  “That’s all.”

“You’re lying,” she shot back, darting in front of him and forcing him to look her in the eyes.  “What else happened, Isa?”

As he stared down at her, finally meeting her impatient glare, he could only sigh.  He hadn’t a clue what he should tell her. He questioned whether or not she would believe him, whether or not he even believed it himself.  He saw the moon reflected in her eyes and remembered. He remembered every time he’d lost himself in that chaos, that fury. All those gaps where his mind had gone blank, like holes punctured in his memory, were slowly filling in.  He remembered watching the moon until its image distorted, listening to his thoughts as they faded away. He remembered the very first time, setting his sights on Xemnas’ grinning face and swinging his claymore with all the strength his teenage body could muster, confused and enraged as Xion was now.

“Tell me!” she shouted in desperation.

He braced himself, taking a slow breath.  “I think you berserked.”

She blinked, at first appearing to have misheard him.  It took only a second for her to process his words, and he caught the exact moment where it dawned on her.  She gasped, her jaw dropping with an expression of utter disbelief. She clasped a hand over her mouth as her breaths accelerated.  “N-No… it can’t be…” she whispered, shaking her head as tears filled her eyes again. “I thought that…”

As soon as she started to break down, Isa reached for her.  “It’s alright. Come here.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in where she swiftly collapsed, covering her face in shame as she wept into his jacket.  “I’m still—!”

“Shhh,” he whispered.  “It’s not what you think, Xion.”

“How could this have happened…?!”

“I don’t know, but it’s going to be alright.  We’re going to figure it out.”

She pushed him off of her, staggering away with her head in her hands.  Everything was clicking into place. It all made sense now. She should have known that her new human life was too good to be true.  “All this time… I was always just a puppet…”

“You’re not a puppet,” Isa countered firmly.  “You’re a person. You are and always have been a person.”

She absentmindedly rubbed her wrist, running her fingers along the tender edge of her hand.  The wound was healing, but still sore to the touch. Reluctantly, she’d stopped wrapping it in bandages as she was advised to let it breathe.  Exposed and unsightly, she could barely stand to look at it, repulsed by its appearance. She hated what it represented. She hated being reminded of that night.  As she finally turned back to face Isa, her eyes were drawn to that prominent mark on his brow, and she wondered if he sometimes felt the same way about it as she did about hers.

“What am I going to do?” she asked, all but praying he’d have a solution.

Isa thought for a moment before offering his suggestion.  The whole incident was overwhelming. There were too many questions, too many thoughts and emotions for him to process.  He approached her and took her hand. “We will speak with Even when we return to Radiant Garden. He may have some insight.”

She nodded silently, her gaze cast to the side.  He appealed to her once more. “I know you’re afraid.  You have every right to be. We’re going to make sense of this, Xion.  You have my word.”

When there was nothing more to say, the two resumed their trek to the apartment.  Xion stared at her feet for most of the journey, her mind racing all the way. She thought of Axel, of Roxas, of her friends.  She wondered what they would think, what they would say when they found out. Perhaps they would keep their distance, afraid that she would attack them without warning.  Maybe they’d throw her out, unwilling to even invite the risk. She wondered what she would do if it happened again and she hurt one of them. If she killed one of them. She wondered if she would ever forgive herself, or if she would live in perpetual atonement, overcome with grief and remorse.  Like Isa. Like Leontes.

Her thoughts were still a blur as the two entered the doorway and were enthusiastically greeted by their friends.

“Xion!  Isa!” Roxas shouted gleefully.  “You’re back!”

Luxord spoke up from his place at the kitchen table where he’d been puzzling over a game of solitaire.  “I was wondering where the two of you had gone.”

Lea rose from the sofa, forfeiting the video game they’d been playing.  “How was the play?”

“It was one of the better productions I’ve seen.”

“I thought it was really good,” Xion was scanning the room, seeming confused.  “Where are Pence and Olette?”

Roxas turned and raised an eyebrow, wheeling his head around and finally realizing that the two were missing.  “You mean they’re not with you?”

Luxord chimed in with a mischievous timbre to his voice.  “I think it best if we do not disturb them,” he grinned slyly.  “They appeared to be having a marvelous time.”

There was a collective gasp among the group as everyone came to understand what he’d meant.  Xion and Lea shared ecstatic smiles, practically squealing with excitement while Hayner and Roxas stared wide-eyed at each other with their jaws on the floor in total disbelief.  “No way…”

“I’m sure this is adorable,” Demyx huffed impatiently.  “But can we get back to the race?”

The game was unpaused and the boys scrambled to get back on track.  The screen had been split four ways, with each quadrant containing the image of a vehicle traveling so quickly that the scenery was a blur.  For Isa, it was almost nauseating to watch. The players were furiously mashing the buttons of their controllers, biting their lips in concentration.  After a few moments, one of the vehicles crossed the finish line with a celebratory fanfare and Roxas threw his hands in the air, roaring in victory while his companions groaned.

Chuckling, Isa bent down to tease Lea.  “How is the game?”

Lea wore a strained, sheepish smile.  “I… I have been humbled.”

“He’s been getting his ass handed to him!”

“Shut up, Demyx!”

The boys laughed and slugged each other with pillows until they’d initiated a full-blown wrestling match.  Smirking, Isa backed away before Lea would have the chance to beg for rescue and meandered toward the kitchen.  Xion had joined Luxord at the table and was staring fondly at an interesting-looking potted plant in front of her.  Isa couldn’t identify it, but it had tall stalks topped with healthy, bright green pods that hung open like little hungry mouths.  He’d never seen anything like it.

“What sort of plant is that?” he asked, taking a seat beside her.

“It’s a Venus flytrap,” she answered, seeming slightly embarrassed.  “It, uh… it keeps me company.”

“I see,” Isa watched with curiosity and fascination.  “It’s an impressive specimen.”

Xion proudly admired her leafy companion.  “Olette said it’s called a King Henry. I guess because it grows so tall.”

“Shakespeare has a number of plays about King Henry,” Isa remarked.  “I understand the reference.”

As he studied the exotic plant, he noticed a small scrap of paper taped to its clay pot displaying one word boldly written with black marker.

“‘Crescent?’”

“Oh, that’s his name,” she explained.  “Crescent.”

When he didn’t follow, she continued shyly.  “Olette says she named all of her plants. So I named him Crescent.  Because of the shape of his pods, you see…”

Behind her, the moon was shining in the window — still the sharp image of a perfect crescent, grinning against the black sky.  Tomorrow, there would be no moon to view. Such was the nature of its cycle, to disappear for one night every few weeks, smiling widely as it said its farewells, then again as it made its triumphant return.  Just as a dear friend would. “Xion,” Isa declared. “I couldn’t think of a more perfectly fitting name than that.”

The party wound down rather slowly, dragging well into the night before it did so.  Xion had long since gone to bed and most of the boys had crashed on the floor, their bodies a tangled mess of outstretched limbs and most of them snoring comically.  Isa had joined Lea on the sofa, barely watching as a raunchy cartoon show played on the television. He was feeling tired himself, too tired to even reflect on the day’s events.  His deep concern for Xion’s condition maintained its place in the back of his head. He’d managed to come up with a few theories, each sounding more implausible than the last. He sought to put them from his mind, vowing to address the situation tomorrow with fresh eyes and a rested brain.  He had nearly dozed off when he felt Lea slide his arm around his shoulders.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answered a bit too eagerly.  “Why?”

“You’re really tense.”

Isa swallowed audibly, his eyes darting to the floor.  “I hadn’t noticed.”

Lea let it drop, smiling warmly.  “You know, there’s a meteor shower tomorrow night.  We should make a party out of it, since everyone will be there.”

“Good idea.”

“We can bring a bunch of blankets just like when we were kids,” the excitement in Lea’s eyes glistened in the soft light of the glowing screen.  “Stay up all night on the hill…”

Isa nodded, scarcely able to contain his own anticipation.  “I’d like that.”

With a dramatic yawn, Lea rested his head on Isa’s shoulder and began to snore almost immediately.  Isa was reminded of that chilly evening when the two of them had last watched a meteor shower together.  Lea had fallen asleep then, too, and snored just as loudly. Then and now, Isa could only chuckle, far too amused to be annoyed, hoping his friend wouldn’t wake up and catch him smiling.  Then and now, he took Lea under his arm and curled up beside him, grateful for his warmth and thrilled just to be so close to him. Then and now, he struggled to tear his eyes off the man, content to stay up all night just staring, wishing on all the falling stars in the sky that they would always be friends.  Isa relived those cherished moments in perfect parallel as he lay there watching Lea sleep, longing to touch his face, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. But, then and now, he closed his eyes and drifted away, happily living out that fantasy in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an obnoxiously long chapter! I don't know what it is about Xion, but she makes the "word dump" thing happen every time. I just love writing her! She's such a fascinating character and I really enjoy exploring her angst.
> 
> Winter's Tale is a hotly debated issue on whether or not it's considered a comedy or a tragedy. I'm firmly in the "tragedy" camp. It's way too sad to be considered a comedy. Just wanted to get that out there for any other Shakespeare enthusiasts who might be out there reading this and ready to jump into the comments section to tell me how wrong I am haha.
> 
> I'm thrilled that this story is going over so well. Thank you to all who read it and thank you for the comments and kudos. I can't wait to show you what I've got in store for this one.


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